Into Marvelous Light III (The Cadet)
by skyewardfitzsimmonsphilinda
Summary: Part 3 of the AU in which Coulson finds the lost boy first. Skye, adoption, worries about the S.H.I.E.L.D. academy, and a phone call from Agent Sitwell.
1. A Christmas Special

_A Christmas Special. _

Grant hadn't celebrated Christmas since he and Dana and Chelle had lived with Gram for a year. He certainly hadn't celebrated it the year before—he had been alone in the middle of the woods, his bruised ribs and empty stomach the only gift he had received—and he hadn't given it a single thought about Christmas until Christmas Eve, when the school buzzed with excitement over Christmas break.

"How are you celebrating?" Skye asked him, shoving her books into her locker. He leaned against the locker next to hers, and shrugged.

"I haven't thought about it," he said. "I don't know if the Avengers take Christmas off. None of them have families."

"Of course they're taking Christmas off, dork," she scoffed. "They have _you_."

He shifted uncomfortably. "It's just another day," he said quickly, and she rolled her eyes.

"At St. Agnes, they just sing hymns about Mary and Jesus and then they tell us the real gift was Jesus and we don't actually get any presents," Skye said lightly, but he heard the note of bitterness concealed beneath it. "It's when you realize what being a fucking orphan really means. You know, everybody owns you but you don't really belong to anyone."

"You could join us," he said suddenly, suppressing the sudden urge to push the stray hair falling across her face. "Whatever we decide to do."

She squinted at him. "I don't know"—

"You're coming," he said, his tone final. "I'll talk to Coulson. Do you want to come over after school?"

"Okay. Are FitzSimmons going to be there?"

"Jemma and her parents left yesterday for vacation," Grant followed her down the hallway towards history class. "And Fitz and his mom are leaving this afternoon to go to his grandparent's."

"So I guess it's just us, then." This time there was no disguising the bitterness in her voice, and she looked away. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I'm happy that they have family. I just… I think I hate Christmas."

"Not this one," he promised, looping an arm around her shoulders. "You're not going to hate this one."

She smiled weakly up at him, and then elbowed him in the side. "Today, though," she changed the subject. "Can we go to Stark's?"

"You always want to go to Stark's," he complained. "And then you both just talk about computers for an hour and I get bored and"—

"Yea, I know, you get bored and break stuff," she finished for him as they entered the history classroom. "Though to be fair, last time it was Fitz's explosive that went off, which wasn't exactly your doing."

He grinned and slid into the desk next to hers. "Damn right it wasn't my fault," he said. "Do you want to go see Amie and Aziz at the shelter? We haven't been there in a while."

"Okay. Are we going to your place afterwards, though? Because I think Natasha's home, and we could spar for a little bit."

He assented, and later, when Darcy drove them home from the animal shelter ("What? I'm a good driver. That red light was one of the optional ones."), Skye brought up the topic of family again.

"Do you think my parents are alive?"

The question came out of the blue, and Ward stared at her for a long minute.

"I don't know," he said. "What do you think?"

"Part of me thinks they're dead, because otherwise they would have come for me," Skye said. "But then I know someone dropped me off at the orphanage, and I realize that they left just because they could. Because they didn't want to stick around."

"I wish my parents hadn't stuck around," Ward said bluntly. "It would have been better for all of us if we'd ended up at the orphanage."

Skye looked for a moment as if she were about to be angry, but then her face softened, and he knew she was remembering that awful night when he had faced Garrett down in the battered farmhouse; knew she was remembering what he had revealed about his family.

About Dana and Chelle, and who had killed them.

About what Grant had done after.

"Um, I think I took a wrong turn," Darcy said suddenly. "Maybe I should have let Coulson come after all."

"You took a _wrong turn_ going home?" Ward laughed.

"Yea," she said nonchalantly. "Goddamnit that's a cop. Okay, I'm just going to go"—

"Are we at Stark's?" Ward asked.

"I lied about taking a wrong turn," Darcy said. "Come on."

"Darcy, what"—

"Ask me no questions and I tell you no lies," she said firmly. "Come on. Inside."

Skye exchanged a look with him, and Ward shrugged at her.

"Did you know about this?" she asked.

"Nope. Did you?"

She shook her head.

They stepped out of the transport and into the cold. There was snow falling around them in the gray dusk, but the drive outside of Stark's mansion was lit with Christmas lights. Skye shivered slightly, and Ward realized she was still wearing the thin, fraying coat she had gotten at St. Agnes. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders once again as Darcy led them inside.

They were surrounded instantly by Coulson and Steve and Nat and Clint, all clamoring over each other to say "Merry Christmas." Coulson particularly was grinning from ear to ear, and even the two stoic spies were smiling.

"We're all celebrating together," Coulson told them, and when Skye looked up at him uncertainly. "I talked to Sister Monica already. Sorry we didn't tell you earlier. I hoped you didn't think we'd just forgotten Christmas, we just wanted to make this a surprise"—

Ward looked around at the richly decorated hall towards the main dining room, and he grinned, stopping Coulson's torrent of words. "It's amazing," he said. "I've only celebrated Christmas once"—his voice faltered, but Steve was already motioning them down the hall towards the sound of voices and the smell of Christmas dinner.

Tony, Pepper, Thor and Jane were gathered around the table, and near the opposite entrance, Maria Hill and Bruce Banner were conversing. When they entered, Hill took her leave from Banner and joined them.

"Merry Christmas," she said a bit stiffly, as if she hadn't quite figured out how to speak to him without sounding like a brisk agent. She smiled slightly. "Did they tell you how Fury reacted when all of them said they were leaving for Christmas?"

Ward grinned and shook his head.

"We wanted your first Christmas here to be good," she said. "And Fury has no concept of holidays or family time, so he didn't understand why all of his best agents turned down ops and blew things up—well, that was just Clint, and kind of Natasha, too—when he tried to assign them missions on Christmas eve."

Ward's smile widened, and Skye giggled.

"Nat," Skye called across the room. "What did you blow up?"

Natasha looked up from her conversation with Clint, smiling mischievously. "It was Clint," she said. "And it was kind of an accident, but something happened with one of Fury's helicopters."

Clint shook his head. "Natasha. No. Stop."

Pepper called to them all to take their seats for Christmas dinner, and Skye found one next to Ward, as per usual.

Stark had pulled out all the stops on this Christmas dinner (or rather, Pepper had done all the work and Stark had watched approvingly).

After dinner, when Grant carried his dishes into the kitchen, Coulson followed him. The others were heading to one of the main halls, where the Christmas tree was spectacularly decorated.

"Do you have a minute?" Coulson's look was suddenly serious.

Grant nodded. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Coulson said slowly, his expression unreadable, and Grant shifted uncomfortable. "I wanted to talk to you about something. Last week"—

"Um," Ward interrupted him. "If you're talking about… about the thing in the lab with Fitz and what happened with Sitwell, I know I should have told you"—

Coulson's eyes narrowed slightly. "What about the lab?" he asked.

"Shit. Um."

"Grant."

"I swear I didn't plan for it to happen," Grant said guiltily, shifting slightly. "Fitz was trying to finish a project he was working on before Christmas. It was for Jemma, really—it was a piece of technology that she could use as a stun gun, of sorts. More high-powered, though. Self-defense."

"And?" Coulson folded his arms. "What happened?"

"Fitz and I went to the shooting range downstairs in the Hub after school last week," Ward said reluctantly. "And he didn't mean to make it go off at that time, but it hit one of the tech specialists and knocked him out. Agent Sitwell was the only other agent there, and he saw us and came over to yell at Fitz, so I… uh…I knocked him out."

"With Fitz's stun gun?"

Ward winced and nodded.

"Does this gun cause temporary amnesia, too?" Coulson asked, a hint of amusement in his words. "Because I am fairly certain Agent Sitwell would have been in my office ranting if he remembered."

"That's the interesting part," Ward said. "Fitz didn't think the gun caused temporary amnesia, but Sitwell never mentioned it. And god knows he's just waiting for a reason to get me kicked out of here."

Coulson's eyes narrowed. "Why do you say that?"

Ward shrugged uncomfortable. "I don't know," he said finally, and Coulson raised his eyebrows.

"So what you're saying is that you just don't like him?"

"No-o," Ward said. "I don't know _why_ he doesn't like me. I just know that he doesn't."

Coulson looked skeptical. "He's never mentioned anything to me," he said. "And if he had a problem with you, I'm sure he would have said something."

Ward shrugged and turned to go, but Coulson held up a hand. "We have to talk about you using the S.H.I.E.L.D. gun range on a floor you're not even supposed to have access to," he said. "And about shooting illicit, untested weapons at S.H.I.E.L.D. agents."

Ward bit his lip uncomfortably. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "I guess I didn't really think about it."

"I know it's difficult to say no to Fitz," Coulson said, moving so that he was facing Grant across the kitchen counter. "But that wasn't safe. If you want to do target practice downstairs, talk to me or Steve, or practice on the roof with Natasha. Okay?"

Ward nodded.

"And I expect you to apologize to both agents you shot with the stun gun," Coulson finished.

"Even Sitwell?" Ward groaned.

"Even Sitwell."

"Fine," Ward sighed. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

This time it was Coulson's turn to look uneasy. "I'm not really sure where to start," he said, and Ward felt a sudden twinge of panic at the back of his mind.

Ward had a fear always at the back of his mind that someday he would push hard enough and they would let go; that someday he would become too much trouble and he would no longer be enough for them, and it was this that he heard in Coulson's voice now—

"Grant," Coulson said slowly. "I've been talking to the others for the past… for the past few weeks. And you know that I'm currently your legal guardian, and that we very much plan on having your permanent home with us, but we've realized… I've realized…that maybe there's a next step we've been missing."

"A next step?" Ward asked, his voice squeaking just slightly.

"Tony and Pepper are hoping to adopt Skye," Coulson blurted out. "And I realized that…maybe it's time I did the same thing. But only if you want, and I would understand if you didn't because I know what it's been like for you and"—

"Are you serious?" Ward cut off his flow of words. "You—you—_really_?"

Coulson grinned, nodding. "Yea. When you're ready."

"You're going to _adopt_ me?"

He nodded again, and Ward laughed incredulously. "I—I don't—I don't know what to say," he said, and found to his embarrassment that something was causing his throat to clench oddly. "I—yes. Yes. I do…I do want that. Are you sure—are you sure it's what you want?" His voice dropped so low it was barely more than a whisper.

Coulson stared at him. "Of course that's what I want." He crossed the kitchen and pulled Ward into a brief hug. "Stark talked to some of his lawyers, and they said it would be possible to sign the adoption papers next week. New Year's Day. Is that okay?"

Grant nodded, and then he realized the full import of Coulson's words. "Stark and Pepper are adopting Skye?"

Coulson smiled and nodded, and Ward felt himself grinning from ear to ear.

"When are they asking her?"

"Tonight," Coulson told him, but Ward was already nearly running down the hall to join the others in the living room.

When they reached the living room, they found that Stark had put the thrusters from one of his suits on Skye, and the two of them were balancing at the top of the Christmas tree as she placed a gaudy, gigantic star at the tip.

Natasha and Clint were in one corner dangerously close to a branch of mistletoe, Maria and Bruce were seated on one of the couches, holding hot cocoa and laughing at something Steve said, and Pepper was standing at the base of the Christmas tree, shouting at Tony and Skye to be careful. Darcy was asking if Thor could use "myuh-myuh magic" to fly her up to join Stark and Skye, and Jane was distracting him with mistletoe and whatever she was whispering in his ear.

Despite Pepper's concern, Skye was returned safely to the ground, and the star glittered down on all of them as they played board games—Ward found he particularly loved Scrabble and Battleship—until late into the night. The adults drank (Natasha thoughtlessly poured Skye a shot and then argued that she could hold her alcohol better than Thor when she was Skye's age), and Grant had his first taste of champagne (in his family, there had been beer and breaking bottles and worse than that, and he didn't consider that his first experience with alcohol, not really).

The last thing he really remembered was curling up between Skye and Darcy on the couch as it neared midnight, and nodding off sleepily as Tony recounted yet another story that was accompanied by eye rolls in unison from Steve, Maria, Pepper, and Coulson. Someone—he thought it might be Jane, but he was already drifting off to sleep—said something about opening Christmas presents early the next morning, and then Grant vaguely remembered being carried up to one of the many spare bedrooms in Stark's mansion.

He woke the next morning to the sounds of a pillow fight that was raging in the hall between Skye and Darcy (and, soon after, Jane, Maria, and Steve). It wasn't long before the whole house was awake, and Stark and Thor and Steve disappeared off to the kitchen to fix breakfast (Stark had, of course, sent any staff he kept home for Christmas).

They exchanged gifts afterwards, and Grant realized, overwhelmed, that he had never had a Christmas like it. From the look on her face, neither had Skye.

Most memorable among the gifts were a sleek new bow from Clint for Grant and a scarlet dress from Natasha for Skye (Natasha referred to it as a "man-killing dress" and it was complete with a hidden pocket that could hold a knife). Tony's gifts were the most outrageous (including a giant teddy bear for Banner, with the logic that even the Hulk needed to have something to cuddle); Maria's the most practical, and Steve's the most absurdly old-fashioned (he gave Tony an ancient wireless radio just to hear Tony's disgust at the outdated technology).

They spent the day at Stark's mansion, and it passed like a whirlwind (it included sledding at one point, which, with Clint and Natasha along, involved more potentially deadly ideas than Grant cared to tell the others when he and Skye recounted their adventures to the rest).

It was evening when Skye slipped her hand into his and smiled up at him. "I wish I could stay here forever," she said lightly, but there was something unmistakable sad in her dark eyes.

Ward wanted to tell her so badly he thought he might burst, but he just squeezed her hand. (They both spotted the nearby mistletoe a moment later, and it was Darcy who roughly shoved them underneath it and glared at Ward until he awkwardly pecked Skye on the cheek).

It was the most memorable moment of the day when Stark asked them all to come upstairs to see a room he had just furnished (meaning, of course, that Pepper had taken care of everything).

The room was complete with a canopy bed, a set of beautifully finished bookcases, and a next-gen laptop that Stark had designed himself. And in the open closet hung Skye's new red dress.

Ward didn't know what to expect, but when he saw realization dawn on Skye's face he wanted to capture the expression on her face forever. She covered her open mouth with her hand, and looked back and forth between Pepper and Tony as if she wasn't sure she could believe what she was seeing.

"We'd like you to stay," Pepper said gently. "If you want. And if you can handle living with Tony."

Skye nearly knocked her over with a hug, and then she turned and buried her face in Tony's shirt, her tangled dark hair falling over the light of the arc reactor next to his heart.

It was late evening when Skye and Ward were alone again, in the dimly lit living room. Skye had not stopped smiling since she found out the news.

"Did you know?" she asked, and when Ward grinned she smacked him with one of the couch pillows. "You little shit. Of course you knew."

When he told her what Coulson had said about adopting him, she hit him with pillow again.

"Why. Didn't. You. Tell. Me."

He grinned and dodged away from her pillow.

"Remember what I said?" she asked suddenly, her expression sobering. "About being owned by everyone but belonging to nobody?"

He nodded.

"Is this what it's like to belong to somebody?"

He threw an arm over her shoulder, and she dropped her head on his shoulder. "Yea," he said. "This is what it's like."

"Grant," she whispered, and he looked down at her, realizing suddenly that her face was inches from his. "There's mistletoe. Right there."

He looked up, noticing the small bow just above their heads, and Skye caught him off guard, pushing her lips against his briefly, blushing furiously the entire time.

He stared at her, his mouth open, and she smiled, still blushing, before dropping her head on his shoulder again.

"I think I lied before," Skye said softly, her words muffled against his shirt. "I don't mind Christmas. I don't mind it all."


	2. Learning

_New Year's Morning. _

It was fiercely cold on the bright, early morning when Coulson signed Grant's adoption papers, and Tony and Pepper signed Skye's.

Everyone was there (Natasha had just left Fury's office with no explanation when he tried to assign her a mission, Hill had shamelessly ditched in the middle of a debriefing, and even Agent Hand had left behind her agents and her paperwork to be with them when the adoption was finalized). Darcy was at the front beside Grant, sipping coffee out of the giant mug which was now known as "Darcy's mug" not "Thor's mug."

("Possession is half of ownership," Darcy told him, yawning. "Or maybe that's drug laws. Don't ask me questions at eight in the morning.")

FitzSimmons had arrived home the night before, and now Fitz was bouncing excitedly in his seat, despite his mother's repeated commands to sit still. Simmons was grinning from ear to ear and poking Fitz and murmuring excited observations in his ear each time she leaned over.

It was, hands down, the best day of Grant Ward's life.

Briefly, he thought of that crisp September day when Coulson had found him in that godforsaken woods and told him he was going to take him home. He hadn't believed Coulson for a long time; hadn't believed there could be a safe place for a boy like him. And this?

This was more than he had ever hoped for.

_Six months later. _

As it turned out, having a house full of people who, despite the fact that only one of them had signed the adoption papers, all seemed to believe that Grant belonged to them… well, it had its drawbacks, too.

(These included anything from Natasha showing up to school to call Taksony a collection of Russian words that she refused to translate for Grant later, to disasters like Thor picking him up from school and accidentally handing a frail elderly teacher Mjolnir to hold, to Darcy scolding him for staying out past curfew with Skye).

Not that he was complaining, of course.

School had nearly finished, however, and he was beginning to wonder what he was going to do come fall. He would be turning fifteen and starting high school, and most students at the school he attended now transferred to private schools or other academies for high school.

So Ward didn't ask.

If he would have to face that in the fall—or worse, face leaving the Hub and going away to school—at least he would enjoy this last summer he had. It was likely that they would find a boarding school to send him to, since all of them were busy agents involved in active ops which took them away from the base, and Ward imagined that Coulson missed being able to leave the Hub for extended periods of time.

He mentioned this to Skye one evening when she had climbed up the side of the main Hub building to join him on the roof. Her clothes were less ragged than the ones she had worn during her time at the orphanage, though they were still plaid button-downs and hacked-off jeans. She might now be the daughter of a billionaire, but nothing could force Skye to dress as anyone but herself (which, Ward reflected, was one of the many things Tony and Pepper loved so much about her).

"Where are you going to school this fall?" Ward asked suddenly, staring purposely up at the starry sky and not at her.

"I was wondering when you were going to ask," Skye said. "I haven't decided yet. Tony and Pepper have given me a lot of options."

Ward's face fell. "Are the schools far away?"

"The one I like is best is a computer and tech school, and it's not even an hour away," she said. "So I'd still be living here. Where are you going?"

Ward shrugged. "Do you think they'll send me away to…I don't know… some boarding school or something?"

Skye laughed out loud, and then her face softened. "You were _serious_?" she asked. "They're not going to send you away unless you want to go. I guess I assumed you were going to the S.H.I.E.L.D. academy."

"I hoped you would be, too," he said. "Besides, I don't know if I'm good enough to get in."

Skye grabbed one of the pillows they'd brought to the roof for lounging and smacked him with it. "You're an idiot," she said. "You were trained by _Natasha Romanov_, and they all say you're the best they've seen since she went through the academy"—

"But what if they're just saying that?" Ward protested. "What if everyone at the academy is better trained and better prepared and I'm just fooling myself thinking I'd ever make it"—

"Shut. Up." Skye rolled over so she was leaning on her elbow and looking at him. "You're such an idiot. You took out three high school seniors with four strikes and a single kick when you were a skinny little eighth grader. I think you'll be just fine."

Ward shook his head, but he couldn't help the small smile on his lips. "You'd be good at the academy, too," he said. "In the tech & communications part, or in ops. You broke Burke's fingers on the very first day I met you, remember?"

She grinned slightly. "I got in trouble for that fight," she said ruefully.

"So did I," Ward said. "But I'm serious. Did you think about going to the SHIELD academy?"

Skye's expressions hardened just faintly. "Yes," she said crisply. "And there are a lot of things about S.H.I.E.L.D. that I don't… well, that I don't like."

He stared at her. "What are you talking about? You're here almost every day. And Coulson is the best man you'll ever meet, so what"—

"Oh, god, Grant, you should know by now," she said, and he saw to his amazement that her face had gone red with anger. "Of _course _I like Coulson and Nat and everyone else. Of _course_ they're good people. I just don't like that they… that they cover up so much from the public."

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?" Ward sat upright now, staring down at her angrily.

"Oh, stop playing dumb," she said, scooting away from him and glaring at him. "_We _know what's really going on in the world, but did anyone—even police—know when Garrett escaped? No, because he's a monster S.H.I.E.L.D. created, and they don't want the public to know, even if it means that people will be better able to protect themselves."

"No one can protect themselves from Garrett," Ward said flatly.

"That's not the point," Skye snapped, her dark eyes crackling with anger. "The point is that S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't really keep them safe, it just keeps them from knowing they're _not_ safe."

"That's a lie," Ward snarled, jumping to his feet, fists clenched. "You _know_ they protect people, Skye. You know Coulson and Steve and all the rest of them. How the _fuck_ can you say that?"

"Sometimes what they call 'protecting' just ends up hurting you more," Skye nearly shouted. She was on her feet now, too, her fists clenched. "But you wouldn't know anything about that, because you have no idea what it's like to be told over and over and over again that you weren't a good fit and when you try to find out _why_ you find it was all covered up"—

"What?" Ward tipped his head, confusion outweighing his anger momentarily. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"My parents," Skye said, and he realized suddenly that her eyes were full of tears. "My birth parents. I looked for them… I looked everywhere, in every database, tugged every thread and all I got was…was… well, I wasn't shipped back and forth between orphanages and foster homes because I wasn't a good fit. It was because S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't want me to stay in one place for a long time, and when I tried to find out why, all I got was a redacted document." She had tears standing on her cheeks now. "There, Grant. That's their 'protection' for you."

"Skye"—he began, but she was already turning away. "I didn't know"—

"I know," she snapped, swinging over the ledge of the roof and beginning her climb down.

"Skye, please come back"—

"Leave me alone, Grant," she growled, and Ward threw his hands in the air in frustration.

"Oh, go after her already," a voice said behind him, and Ward spun around to find Natasha leaning against the kick-tower. He scowled at her, and she waved her hand at him, un-phased. "Come on. Off you go."

Ward rolled his eyes but followed Skye over the ledge, climbing down after her.

He reached the ground and ran after her, catching her just as she reached one the nearest outbuilding, where they housed most of the transport vehicles.

"Skye," he called softly, trying to avoid the attention of the guards at the gate nearby. "Skye, please wait!"

She turned, tear streaks on her face, and he stopped, his gut twisting.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, stepping forward and reaching out a tentative hand to wipe away the tear still standing on her face. "I should've listened. And about your parents… and… and S.H.I.E.L.D… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She stepped into his arms, sniffling a little. "I'm sorry," she murmured into his shoulder. "I overreacted."

He shook his head. "I get it," he told her softly. "About your parents."

"I know you do," she said. "I wish you didn't."

And because it was dark and Skye had a light in her eyes that made him feel as if everything could be made new, Grant kissed her right there in the open field between the main Hub and the transport shed, for the first time since that Christmas day.

It was a brief kiss—awkward and too quick, his lips crashed against hers, untested and new—and they were broken up too soon by the sound of a smattering of applause.

They looked up, and Natasha and Clint were sitting on the edge of the building, legs dangling over the edge, as they applauded. Grant blushed, but Skye giggled.

A second later she stopped giggling, however, because the applause had accidentally brought the attention of one of the guards, who had his flashlight shining in their direction within seconds.

"I am so screwed," Skye muttered. "This is probably the tenth time I've snuck out after curfew this month."

Ward groaned. "And it's almost one in the morning."

When they were brought inside, Natasha and Clint were waiting in the common room, both still snickering. Coulson exited his room sleepily, and rolled his eyes when he saw Skye and Grant standing in the common room, looking at him sheepishly. He lifted his phone and started dialing. "Grant. Bed." When Ward hesitated, he added. "Now."

Grant did as he was told, elbowing Natasha on his way past, and Coulson spoke into the phone. "Stark, your daughter is at my house again. _Yes_, it's past curfew. Damnit, Stark, can you just get Pepper please?"

Grant winked at Skye behind Coulson's back and then slipped into his room.

When Coulson had hung up the phone and Pepper had arrived to take Skye home, Grant opened his door again as he heard Coulson go past.

"Coulson?"

Coulson turned, his eyes heavy with sleep, and he sighed. "Yes?"

"Do you think I'll really be able to get into the S.H.I.E.L.D. academy?"

Coulson let out a sharp breath in annoyance. "Are we _really_ talking about this right now? Of course you'll be able to."

Grant couldn't help the smile on his face, and Coulson shook his head sleepily.

"Coulson"—

"Grant," Coulson said firmly. "Go. To. Sleep."


	3. Merciless

_Later that same night. _

_An encrypted hardline from the Hub to a small home near the high school. _

Former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Hadrian Taksony, now principal of Grant's high school, lifted the phone to his ear.

"Jasper."

"Hadrian. Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"The boy," Jasper Sitwell said bluntly. "Garrett isn't happy with our progress."

"Garrett is in _jail_. He's not doing much, either."

"You know what he wants, Taksony. The kid is good. One of the best. He's an asset."

"We have no way of getting to him."

"There are ways."

"You have an idea I haven't thought through yet?"

"You have to take what you're doing already, Taksony," Sitwell said coldly. "You've tried to get him kicked out of school, but Burke is pitiful, and the kid has people who will go to bat for him. You have to do better. You have to get him kicked out of school before the end of the year, or we'll have a harder time getting him out of the Academy next year."

"And how will that help us? We need him on our _side_, Sitwell," Taksony said irritably. "If we get him kicked out, he'll just hate us both."

"We don't need to convince him to like us, though," Sitwell responded. "We don't need him to swallow the dogma. We don't even need to tell him what to do or be, or how to fight for us. We just need to make him desperate"—

"And then we need to be the ones to offer him a way out," Taksony finished for him.

"Exactly."

"And how do we make him desperate?"

"We rip the ground from under his feet," Sitwell said emotionlessly. "You take away this illusion of safety he has. He has to know that Coulson and all the rest are going to drop him if he just pushes hard enough, and we'll make sure he pushes hard enough."

"He's just a kid," Taksony said suddenly. "Why does Garrett want him on our side so badly?"

"He's the best trainee we've seen in years," Sitwell said sharply. "He's an asset. Are you getting cold feet?"

"No," Taksony said quickly. "Of course I'm not. The kid's a pain in the ass, and Coulson is worse."

"Good," Sitwell said. "Then rip the ground from under his feet, Agent Taksony. And when the kid thinks he's drowning, we'll make sure Hydra is the only rock he has to stand on."


	4. Rumours

Grant stumbled sleepily out of bed the next morning, regretting his late night. He pulled his backpack over one shoulder as he made his way into the kitchen. Steve was leaning against the counter, sipping coffee.

"When'd you get back?" Grant asked blearily.

"About an hour ago," Steve said. "Coulson asked me to drive you to school today. He had an active op to brief today, so he had to be out of here early this morning."

Grant winced, knowing Coulson couldn't have gotten more than a few hours of sleep last night because he had broken curfew.

"Are you ready to go?" Steve asked, and he nodded.

"Did he say anything about last night?"

"He said your curfew is an hour earlier for the rest of the week," Steve grabbed keys to one of the transports (Coulson had started to leave the keys to his favorite transport in their quarters rather than returning them to the transport building where he was supposed to). "You need to catch up on your sleep."

Grant sighed and yawned, proving the point. "Only a week left of school," he said brightly. "And I'm free."

Steve grinned. "You have a birthday coming up soon, too, don't you?"

Ward felt the smile slide off his face. "I guess," he said, turning away. "We should go." It was going to be his first birthday here, and he was hoping they wouldn't celebrate. He hadn't celebrated since he and Dana and Chelle had lived with Gram for a year, and he didn't want to start celebrating now. Birthdays had always been particularly horrible when he lived with Maynard and their father…

"Grant."

His head snapped up, and he realized he had been standing still, lost in thought, and Steve was at the door, waiting for him.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "I'm coming."

He followed Steve out to the transport.

"Where was your op?" Ward asked sleepily, squinting at the bright sunrise.

"Mediterranean," Steve said briefly. "The sea."

"You were on a boat?"

He nodded. "It was a pretty standard op."

"You don't _do_ standard ops," Ward said, grinning at him. "That's why S.H.I.E.L.D. has you. What happened?"

Steve looked away. "It went fine," he said. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

Ward was silent after that, wondering. Steve had that look on his face—exhausted and pissed off and just a little bit fragile—and Ward saw it often in Natasha after certain ops, though Natasha generally used vodka and punching bags and Clint to cope, while Steve just kept a stiff upper lip.

"Coulson will be home tonight, won't he?" Ward asked, and Steve relaxed a little at the change of subject.

"He'll be done briefing his op by now, and if all goes well, his team should be back by one, so yes. He'll be home tonight," Steve answered, pulling up in front of the school. "You have everything? Your science project—is that due today?"

"It's due Wednesday," Ward told him. "Are you picking me up or is Coulson?"

"Coulson is."

Ward climbed out of the transport and waved goodbye, joining Skye as she hopped out of a limo driven by Happy, Tony's head of security. She was wearing torn-up jeans and a tank top that read "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," and she could not look more laughably out of place getting out of a limousine.

"Did you get in trouble?" she asked him, shrugging her bag higher onto her shoulder.

"My curfew is an hour earlier for the rest of the week," he shrugged.

"Really?" Skye pulled a face. "Pepper's stricter than Coulson. Tony was only strict once he found out I was out with a _boy_. Even though that boy was you."

Ward grinned. "Tony? Really?"

She nodded, rolling her eyes as they pushed open the doors to the school. "He told me I was grounded from talking to boys who try to sit too close to me, and Pepper just made him leave and go to bed, and then she said I had an early curfew for the next week, too." She shrugged again. "If I was at the orphanage, I would have just been backhanded by some old nun in a habit and then given four hundred 'Hail Mary's' to say."

_If he'd been out too late when he lived with his father, he would have more to expect than the back of his hand… _

Ward struggled to shrug off the memories. "Are FitzSimmons still at the lab?"

Skye nodded. "They have all these entrance exams for the academy, and they have to pass some extra qualification exams because they're both so young."

"Hey," a voice called after them as they walked to Ward's locker, and Ward turned.

It was Burke, and he was alone, oddly enough. He usually came surrounded by his pack of friends.

"What do you want?" Ward snapped.

Burke was slightly pale. "Taksony asked me to find you."

"Why?"

"He didn't say," Burke shifted nervously. "Something's happened. I'm supposed to stay with Skye until you get back."

"The hell you are," she snapped. "You can stay the hell away from me, Burke. I'm going with him."

"I think you're lying," Ward said confrontationally, stepping into Burke's space. He had grown taller since the last fight, and now he had a good three inches on Burke. He had filled out just a bit more, though he was still that skinny, long-legged kid he had been when he arrived.

"I'm not," Burke said, shifting nervously. "Taksony made me come. You think I wanted to talk to _you_? You had me in a cast last time we talked, ass hole."

Ward smirked. "I remember," he said. "And if you don't want another cast, you'll stay away from Skye."

Burke raised his hands in surrender. "I'm just doing what Taksony told me to," he insisted. "He wants you in the office, and he wants me to stay with Skye."

"I'm going to the office," Ward said, jabbing a finger into Burke's chest. "And you're going to get lost."

Skye laid a hand on his arm. "It's okay, Grant," she said, smiling sweetly. "You don't need to protect me. Burke, you're going to stay away from me, or _I'm_ going to punch you. In the dick. Okay? Natasha Romanov taught me a few good strikes. Have you heard of her? She's kind of a legend."

Ward smirked again, and then made his way leisurely to the office.

Taksony's secretary waved him into his office, and Ward entered without knocking.

"Sit down, Ward," Taksony stood. "You must be wondering why I called you here."

"You didn't," Ward said. "Technically."

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't call me. You sent your little errand-girl, Burke, to get me. Why did you ask him to come? Were you _asking_ for a fight?"

"I'd hoped you would be past that by now, Ward," Taksony said sharply. "In fact, I'd hoped for a lot more from you. You've had about eight months to grow up and get over that."

Ward laughed sharply. "Sorry to disappoint."

"I mean, I didn't expect you and Burke to be friends, especially with what he's been saying about Coulson and the others, but I did expect you to be civil to each other. In fact"—

"What did he say about Coulson?" Ward interrupted sharply. "And the others? What are you talking about?"

Taksony hesitated, clearly not wanting to spill the information and ignite the situation, but Ward stood up, scraping his chair back loudly.

"_What. Did. He. Say._"

Taksony sighed. "I thought you knew. He was mentioning the old stories about Coulson. The stories of what happened … well, with his father. And the rumors from the high school days about the parties and the drugs and the time Fury bailed him out of jail."

"_What_?"

"Just rumors, of course," Taksony said, laughing patronizingly. "Don't take it so seriously, Ward. It's just talk."

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Ward asked through clenched teeth.

"Just your finals schedule, actually," Taksony said pleasantly, and Ward narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "You have a few finals in overlapping hours, and I just needed you to sign here for a schedule change so you can take your history final second block instead of fifth on the last day."

Ward scanned the brief document, and then signed. "Can I go now?"

"Certainly," Taksony said calmly. "And Burke's rumors? I'm sure it's just talk, Ward. I wouldn't worry about it."

Ward was seeing red. Nobody, _nobody_ talked shit about Coulson.

He found Skye with Burke still tagging along at her heels, and his fists clenched involuntarily. "Taksony told me what you said about Coulson," Ward hissed, leaning close to Burke, who flinched and stepped back, unconsciously gripping the wrist Ward had broken last time.

"What?" Burke's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"If I hear you've been talking hit about him again, I will _break_ you," Ward snarled. "Now stay away from us."

It was all he could do to keep from starting a fight, but he knew Coulson, and he knew the man would not be happy if Ward got into a fight because of something that was said about him.

Near the end of the day, when Ward was still seething and unable to concentrate, he was called down to the office once more. This time, it was Taksony's assistant who talked to him, and she had another schedule ramification to make.

"I hear you may be interested in the S.H.I.E.L.D. academy this fall," she said pleasantly as he signed the papers. Taksony, who had just exited his office, smiled.

"I hear there are several applying to the PsyOps division this year," he observed idly. "It's a selective program, and some say only the best get in. Some say you have to know someone to get in, which is why Burke probably has a better chance. You know, his father is on the review board for applicants. Then again, I'm sure Coulson has a say in which applicants are chosen, so you shouldn't have a problem, eh, Grant?"

"Ward," he snapped. "You can call me Ward. And I can get in on my own. I know how to fight."

Taksony raised his eyebrows. "It's more than fighting, though. You have to know more than just throwing punches. Not saying you don't," he added quickly. "It's just that some kids who are good at street fighting are vastly unprepared for the academy."

The bell rang at that instant, and Ward stalked out, his fists clenched.

If Burke, that bastard, got in because his father was on the review board, and if Ward didn't because of it—Ward felt sick suddenly. Burke walked by him on his way out, heading to the office, and Ward gritted his teeth, forced his fists to stay idly by his sides, forced himself not to think of the rumors this kid was spreading—

"Grant," Skye called, running to catch up to him. "I can't come over tonight, after all. I'm sorry. Pepper's taking me to visit that school I told you about, and we're going to be there all evening."

Ward's face fell. "Sure. Fine," he said unenthusiastically. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Yea," she grinned. "I'll tell you all about it."

So Ward walked to the transport alone. Coulson was waiting for him, dark circles under his eyes, and Ward felt a pang of guilt.

"How was school?"

"Fine," he said shortly. "How was the op?"

"Alright," Coulson shrugged. "No major bumps. Did Steve tell you about curfew?"

"Yea," Ward said, annoyance sharpening his voice. "Got it."

Coulson shot him a curious look. "Are you okay?" he asked, and Ward looked out the window, willing the anger in the pit of his stomach to stay out of his voice.

"Yea. Fine."

Coulson raised his eyebrows, but ignored Ward's tone. "Do you want to go to the shelter tonight? Amie and Aziz said they have a new litter of puppies."

"I have homework," he said shortly.

"What class?"

"Does it matter?" Ward snapped, and then winced at the sound of his words and avoided Coulson's look. "Sorry," he said quickly. "Sorry. I shouldn't have…" His voice trailed off. This day wasn't supposed to have turned out this way.

It was just Burke and his despicable lies, and Skye being gone, and something about Taksony that grated on Ward's news, especially since he'd had to see him twice in one day.

"Grant," Coulson said quietly, and Ward stopped evading his look for the first time. "What happened today?"

"It's nothing," Ward said. "I saw Burke, wanted to hit him in the face, and I didn't. Same old, same old."

"What did he do?"

Ward hesitated, and Coulson waited stubbornly. "He just said some things."

"About Skye?"

"About you."

"Ah. What kind of things?"

"The shitty kind," Ward said, and when Coulson waited for him to elaborate, he stared out the window. "I don't really want to say."

"Okay."

"I still want to punch him."

"I'm glad you didn't."

Ward sighed. "Is it true that his father is on the review board at the Academy?" He hated the knowing look that flashed across Coulson's face.

"He was last year," Coulson said. "No agent is allowed to judge applications if a member of the immediate family is one of the applicants."

Ward let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

When they reached home, only Steve was home, cooking a pot of spaghetti for supper.

Ward curled up on the couch and put in the first disc of _The Walking Dead_, hoping Darcy would come and join him when she finished work for the day. Instead, Coulson sat down beside him, closing his eyes wearily.

"Sorry I woke you up last night," Ward said, turning the volume on the TV down just slightly.

Coulson smiled slightly, nodding in acceptance of the apology. "Were you really that worried about getting into the Academy?"

Ward hesitated, and then nodded. "It's all I want. And I don't think I can handle another four years at that school."

"I'm sorry it's been rough," Coulson said, and then he reached over and grabbed the remote from Ward's hand. "One episode," he said. "Just one. And then you have homework."

Fifteen minutes later, both of them were asleep on the couch, Ward wrapped in a blanket made from Asgardian wool that Thor had brought back recently, their spaghetti growing cold on the table behind them because Steve didn't have the heart to wake them.

_Three levels down. An encrypted hard line. _

"Taksony. Tell me you have good news."

"He didn't take the bait."

"Then give him _better_ bait. We need him expelled, and this is the only way."

"There might be another way."

"And what is that?"

"I'd like to call it a two-for-one deal," Taksony said, and at the other end of the line, Jasper Sitwell smiled.

"I like it," he said. "He'll be out by Wednesday."


	5. Informant

The following day, Ward was better rested but still pissed every time he ran into Burke in the hallways, which seemed more often than usual.

It wasn't Burke, though, that makes him snap.

It was a combination of factors, really.

It started when a group of boys—not Burke's group—ask both him and Skye to join them at lunch. One boy, Abel Sitwell, is the captain of the high school soccer team, and is someone who everyone knows is pegged to get into the Academy next year. Ward doesn't look up to many people here, and likes even fewer, but this boy is one of the few he can stand.

So he sat with them, dragging Skye with him and ignoring her annoyed look.

It shouldn't matter to him as much as it does, but when Abel comments on his excellent hand-to-hand skills, Ward flushes with pride.

"I hear you're pretty good yourself," Ward conceded. "Heard you're going to the Academy next year."

"Well, I haven't officially been accepted yet, but yea," Abel grinned. "But seriously, you're good. I'm just surprised you haven't beat up Burke already after all the shit he's been saying." He smirked suddenly. "You can't afford to go soft right before you go to the Academy, kid. Most kids don't go until they graduate from high school, and the high school kids always get hazed. You have to be ready to do what it takes."

"And smart enough to know what that really is," Skye interjected coldly, and Ward looked at her wordlessly.

"I hear you won't touch the Academy now," Abel laughed. "S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't your cup of tea?"

She raised her eyebrows, and Ward broke his gaze. "Not my cup of tea," she said quietly, returning to her lunch.

"It's not for everyone," Abel said. "I mean, technically we're not even supposed to be talking about, but in this school everyone knows what it is. I mean, most people are only here because their parents work for S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Except the St. Agnes kids," Skye reminded him sharply, and Ward nudged her. She threw him a disdainful look.

"My cousin Jasper—Agent Sitwell, to you, I suppose—works at the Hub. I hear quite a few stories from him, believe me," he laughed. "But then I suppose you hear all the stories yourself, don't you, living there?"

"Which stories?" Skye asked curiously.

"Well… word is that Coulson wasn't always the clean agent he is now," Abel pushed aside his lunch, eyes fastened on Ward, who looked away. "I mean, I've been meaning to ask… are any of Burke's stories true?"

"No," Ward said shortly.

"What's Burke been saying?" Skye demanded angrily.

"Well, they say that after he covered up New Mexico and Thor, three eyewitnesses died," Abel said. "They say he ordered the hit to make sure New Mexico was kept quiet. And there's the other stuff, too. They say he did weed in high school—which wouldn't be that big of a deal, most people do, but he became some hard-core dealer. They say there was this kid"—

"I don't want to hear it," Ward snapped.

Abel raised his hands. "Sorry, man. I thought you'd heard all this."

"I have," Ward said.

"Do you know anything about his past?" Abel asked curiously. "I mean, I'm not trying to push you or anything, I just thought you'd be the one to know"—

"Ask him yourself," Ward said shortly.

Abel sighed. "Look, man, I'm sorry. I won't ask anything else, I promise, I just have one question"—

"_What_?" Ward said irritably. "What the fuck? Why are you asking me all this?"

"I really just had one question," Abel admitted, and then his voice dropped and he leaned across the table. "Is it true that…that… your dad and Coulson's dad were both a little… you know… crazy? And that you killed your dad and Coulson killed his?"

Ward stood abruptly, his tray flipping and his food flying into Abel's face. He was livid, face pale, hands shaking. "_Fuck. Off_."

He turned and stalked away, head high, and Skye jumped up to follow him, but Abel grabbed her arm.

"Fuck I'm sorry," Ward heard Abel say. "I didn't think—I didn't know he'd react like that"—

"Well, what the fuck did you expect?" Skye demanded.

"I—fuck, Skye. I didn't mean to piss him off," he said. "I just…damn. That wasn't supposed to go down this way."

"If you try to talk to him again, he'll probably hit you," Skye said. "And I wouldn't blame him."

"I have to tell him I'm sorry," Abel said, and Ward heard him approaching. "Dude, please listen. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

Ward turned on him sharply. "Stay away from me," he snapped.

"Grant, I'm sorry"—

"What part of 'fuck off' did you not understand?" Ward snarled. "Go back to your table, Sitwell, or I swear you'll end up with a cast just like Burke had."

Abel raised his hands in surrender. "Fine," he said sharply. "I'm sorry, man."

Ward turned and sat down at a table alone, and Skye slipped in across from him.

Ward was still shaking.

He couldn't look at her.

"He's a piece of shit," Skye said calmly. "I'm sure he was just trying to get a reaction. Also, you might want to check your backpack. I think I saw him slip something in there."

"What?" Ward tilted his hand in confusion. "What would he have put in my backpack?"

"Grant Ward, report to the office immediately," a voice came through the loudspeaker, and Ward sighed heavily.

"I'll check later," he said. "Are you sure you saw something?"

"Of course I'm sure," she said, rolling her eyes.

He left her alone at the table, and found Taksony waiting in the office. "Ward, I've been informed of a serious offense," he said bluntly. "Someone saw you smoking and distributing marijuana on school grounds this morning."

"_What_?"

"The informer came to me just before lunch, and I went to confirm it on school cameras," Taksony said it. "And unfortunately, son, I'm going to have to have a look in your backpack."

"This is bullshit," Ward snapped, tossing his background to the ground. "And I'm not your son."

Taksony opened the backpack, and _shit_, Skye was right. Abel—or someone—had planted a bong at the top of his bag.

"That isn't mine," Ward said desperately.

If he was suspended now—expelled, even—he would have no chance of getting into the Academy. He would have no chance at all.

Taksony shook his head. "My secretary is going to call Coulson," he said firmly. "You can go collect your books, because you'll be going home today, Ward. I'll be making a phone call of my own."

"Who was your informer?" Ward demanded. "And where's this 'footage' you claim to have?"

Taksony sighed, and Ward noticed with confusion that his expression looked almost sad. "It was Skye," he said. "The informant was Skye."


	6. Nobody's Son

"_Skye_?" Ward nearly shouted, his jaw hanging open. "No. You're lying."

"Go get your books," Taksony said wearily. "When Coulson arrives, we'll have this conversation."

"I don't believe you. Skye wouldn't do that." Ward stood firmly in place.

"Abel also brought it to my attention a few days ago," Taksony said calmly. "And now that the two of them are dating I assume"—

"_What_? They're not"—

"Look, Ward, I'm sorry, but that's how it is. When you go get your books, you can ask her yourself, but nothing's going to change the fact that you were found with paraphernalia in your backpack. Coulson will be here in a few minutes, and I have another phone call to make, so go. Get your books, Ward."

He didn't have to go find Skye, because she was standing outside of her locker, and Ward walked up just as Abel leaned in to kiss her.

Ward didn't wait to see what happened next.

Afterwards, he didn't really know how the rest of it happened. He didn't plan on taking it out on anyone.

Didn't plan on finding Burke, planting a fist square on his jaw.

It was just that everything, _everything_, was crumbling, everything was destroyed—Burke and his rumors about Coulson, Abel and the bong and the rumors, always the goddamn _rumors_, and he had no hope of the Academy, no hope at all—

He felt his fist collide with Burke's face again, the nose this time; heard the snap of bones…and it didn't feel like relief.

It didn't feel like revenge.

He just felt sick to his stomach, and suddenly all he could see was the terror in the older boy's eyes, the confusion, and _fuck_ how had everything gone to hell in the space of a single day?

Coulson was there suddenly—he must have already been in town when Taksony called—and someone else was helping Burke to his feet, pressing something to his bleeding nose. Ward just stared forward blankly.

He was still shaking, still angry, still feeling as if he was about to throw up.

There was memory after memory, and he was drowning in them, falling—memories of his father and welts on his back and two gunshots that ended everything—and he didn't know which was worse, living with Maynard and his father and mother and never having any hope at all, or this, now: having hopes and watching them slip through his fingers.

"Come on," Coulson said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder and guiding him back towards the office.

Ward wanted to lean against Coulson and break, let everything fall, but he couldn't, couldn't reach out because how could Coulson look at him after all this?

Taksony was waiting just inside the office, his arms folded.

"I saw what you just did to Burke," Taksony said sternly.

Ward did not look up.

"Agent Coulson, this morning our security cameras captured footage of Grant distributing marijuana to classmates, and during the lunch period drug paraphernalia was found in his backpack," Taksony said, and Ward clenched his fists to still the shaking.

It didn't work.

He was going to be sick he was he was—

"And just now, as you saw, he hit Burke in the face. Again."

"Do you have anything to add, son?" Coulson turned to him, his face heavy with sadness.

"I'm nobody's son," Grant said, reckless defiance in his tone.

Coulson closed his eyes wearily. "Grant"—

"The punishment for this is, in fact, expulsion," Taksony said.

"I'd like to see the footage," Coulson said abruptly. "The punishment for possession and distribution is expulsion. The punishment for paraphernalia is simple suspension, and as far as I know, your only evidence is the bong found in his bag."

Taksony flushed. "Unfortunately, that data cannot be accessed, because we process and send each security tape to our district office"—

"If your claims have no evidence, Grant cannot be charged with as serious an allegation as you are attempting," Coulson said coldly, his eyes locking on the principal's face. "Furthermore, policy is to send those security tapes at the end of each school week, so may I ask why you had them sent in the middle of the day?"

Taksony swallowed uncomfortably. "There is also the matter of the fight, which is Ward's third offense"—

"We agree that the first incident with Burke was not, in fact, a fight, and it was done solely to protect the two children, Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons. This is, in fact, Ward's second offense, which, again, is punishable only by suspension."

Ward stared at the ground, biting his lip.

Why was Coulson fighting for him, even now?

Why would anyone?

Taksony straightened angrily. "Would you try to explain away Ward's second offense? Would you try to explain away the paraphernalia found on him? What else would you ask us to excuse? He doesn't deserve special privileges just because he's your boy."

"No," Coulson agreed. "He doesn't. I'm not asking you to excuse him. I'm not even asking for you to punish him fairly, because that would be too much to ask for when it comes to you, Taksony. I'm just asking you to abide by your own damn rules."

Taksony opened his mouth and shut it again. "Fine," he said sharply. "He's suspended for a week, per school policy. That means he'll have to take all of his finals on the final two days of school, when he returns from suspension."

Ward blanched, and Coulson raised his eyebrows at Taksony. "That's six finals in one day."

"That's the only compromise I'm willing to offer," Taksony said. "And consider those last two days in school probationary, because if he steps out of line again, he _will_ be expelled."

Coulson looked about to protest, but then he closed his mouth and nodded. "Alright," he said finally. "Grant, let's go home."

_Home? _

_I don't have it. _

_I don't belong to you, I can't, you can't want me, not now, I won't be able to get into the Academy I won't be able to do anything and Skye, Skye lied and turned me in for something I didn't do—_

"Grant," Coulson repeated, and Ward realized he was still standing in the same place he had been, his hands still shaking.

As soon as they were inside the car, Coulson turned to him, his face hard and angry and lined. "Why did you hit him?"

"For the hell of it," Ward lied, clenching his fists so tightly that his fingernails dug into his palms until they bled.

"That's not true," Coulson said. "I know it's not. Was it because of the rumors you said he was spreading?"

"No," Ward lied, and Coulson let out his breath in an impatient huff.

"The bong. Was it yours?"

"Well, it was in my bag, wasn't it?" Ward asked recklessly. "Figure it out."

He was wrecking this, wrecking everything, and he was going to continue doing so until there was nothing left in him to destroy.

"Grant," Coulson said sharply. "Do you have any idea who could have planted it on you?"

"Were you not listening?" Ward snapped.

"Yea," Coulson retorted sharply. "And you may be as good as Romanov was at that age, but I've always been able to tell if you're telling the truth, Grant, so start explaining. Now."

"Skye was the one who told Taksony," Grant blurted out, and Coulson stared at him. "She told him this morning, apparently. I suppose that means she also planted the bong. There. Happy?"

"Not exactly," Coulson said, finally starting the car. "Any idea why she would do that?"

Ward shook his head. "We had a… we argued the other night. When we were out late. I thought we were good afterwards, but god knows what she was thinking. Maybe it's just her little grudge against S.H.I.E.L.D."

Coulson sighed. "That doesn't seem like Skye."

"Maybe we don't know her as well as we thought."

Coulson shook his head. "Skye would never do that to you. You know that."

"Abel kissed her," Ward blurted out. "I saw him. And Taksony said"—

"Are you saying you trust Taksony more than Skye?" Coulson asked sharply, his jaw tightening into a stiff line. "Because I think you need to give Skye a chance. I think you owe it her that much."

"I saw"—Ward began, but Coulson cut him off.

"You saw Abel lean in to kiss her," Coulson said. "I had just gotten to the school. I saw it too. And I saw you leave before you saw the rest."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know why Abel was trying to kiss her," Coulson said. "But he didn't get anywhere near her, because she kicked him in the groin and then shoved him against the locker. And then she told him that if he wanted to go home with his hands still attached to his body, he would keep them off of hers."

Ward let out a long breath. "But why—why would Taksony say that? Why does he want me gone?"

"I don't know," Coulson sighed heavily, and then shook his head. "But why did you take it out on Burke?"

"He was the one spreading rumors," Ward said defensively. "He's an asshole."

"You broke his nose," Coulson said sharply as they pulled up inside the gates at the Hub. "And his wrist. _Again_. I thought"—

"You thought I was past this?" Ward scoffed, his coarse laughter jarring the space between them. "You thought that was even possible? The whole school knows I killed my own father, and now everyone _also_ knows I don't have a chance at the Academy, so, Coulson, there was never a chance for me, was there? I was never going to be a good little S.H.I.E.L.D. boy." He jumped out of the car before Coulson could respond, and stalked inside, his head high.

Coulson followed him inside, his silence stretching between them for miles.

His phone buzzed when they reached the door to the quarters, and Coulson sighed and answered. He hung up almost immediately, however, and turned to Ward. "I have an emergency briefing in the director's office," he said. "But I'll be back as soon as I can, okay? We have a lot to talk about."

Ward looked down, away from Coulson's sharp, piercing eyes.

"Do I have your word you're going to stay here?" Coulson asked, and Ward's head snapped up.

"Yea," he said finally, turning away. "I'll be here."

As soon as Coulson left, he dropped onto the couch, head in hands. Buddy jumped up on the couch beside him, tail thumping, and Ward buried his face against the dog's side. "What are we gonna do, Buddy?" he whispered, glad at least that he was alone in the quarters right now.

The front door opened, but it wasn't Coulson.

It was Agent Jasper Sitwell.

"Is Coulson here?" he asked crisply.

"No," Ward said shortly. "I'll have him call you when he comes back."

"I'll wait for him."

Ward stood and rubbed the back of his arm across his face, making sure there was no trace of tears on his face. "No," he said stubbornly. "This isn't a fucking S.H.I.E.L.D. meeting room. This is our living quarters."

Sitwell raised his eyebrows, and then he hesitated. "Listen, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"What?"

"I didn't really come here to see Coulson," Sitwell said, and Ward squinted up at him suspiciously. "I need to talk to you. About Coulson."

"What the hell do you want?" Ward stepped back, fists clenching.

"It's nothing major," Sitwell reassured him, raising his hands slightly. "I just have one question."

"And why would I answer your question?"

"Because I can get you into the Academy," Sitwell said bluntly. "I can get you out of your suspension, and I can make your record clean. I'm on the review board at the Academy, and I can make sure you get in. Listen, kid, you've got potential, and I don't want to see it wasted because you've gotten into a few fights, but you know how the Academy looks at records like yours."

Ward stared at him blankly. "What are you asking me to do?" he asked slowly.

"I just need an answer to one question about Coulson," Sitwell said. "It's not a big deal, and I'm not going to use it against him. I just need the information. And you have it."

"No," Grant said flatly, and Sitwell looked slightly taken aback.

"You haven't heard my question yet."

"I don't need to," Grant snapped. "Listen, ass hole, there is nothing you could say that would make me sell Coulson out."

"I'm not asking you to sell him out," Sitwell protested. "It's a small question, and it's not going to hurt anyone. Think about this before you say no, kid. Listen, I was here when they brought you in. I heard what you said, and it's true. You're nobody's son. They took you in, but that doesn't mean you belong to them, and the Academy is your one shot at belonging _anywhere_. You could have great things in store for you, Grant. Just say yes."

Ward hesitated, and then a slow smile spread across his face, and Sitwell relaxed, obviously thinking Ward was going to give him the answer he wanted. "You sound just like John Garrett," Ward snarled suddenly, the smile twisting into a leer as he leaned into Sitwell's space. "I don't care if I never get into the Academy. I don't care if I never belong anywhere. I don't _care_." His voice was shaking. "I'm not doing that to Coulson. Don't ask me again."

"Kid, that was your only shot"—

"Get out," Ward ordered, shoving Sitwell backwards. "_Get. Out._"

The door burst open again, and Coulson was standing there, Skye at his side. His eyes were flashing with anger, and Skye was holding something—a recording device of some sort—in her hand triumphantly.

"Agent Coulson, I was just"—Sitwell began, but Coulson shook his head.

"Don't," he said. "Don't even try. I heard what you asked him to do just now. Furthermore, Skye has just shown me evidence of your communications with Taksony."

Sitwell's eyes widened, and Ward stared back and forth between them in confusion.

Coulson stepped forward, revealing the rest behind him—Steve and Natasha and Clint at the forefront, looking more angry than he had seen them since Garrett, and behind them, Thor and Jane and Tony and Darcy.

"They'll be taking you downstairs to show the evidence before Director Fury," Coulson said. "Skye will be presenting the evidence, and Grant and I will follow in a few minutes."

Steve, who had nearly a foot of height on Sitwell, took the agent by the arm and led him away, and the rest followed. The moment they were gone, Coulson turned to Ward, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We'll have a longer conversation later," he said quietly. "But I want you to see this evidence first."

Ward nodded. He still couldn't look at Coulson. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but Coulson was speaking again.

"You were wrong. When you said you were nobody's son? That's not true," Coulson said fiercely. "You're mine."


	7. Of a Mild Day

Sitwell and Taksony—Natasha had brought him in—were both seated in a long conference room, and Hand, Hill, and Fury were all waiting when Coulson and Ward entered a few minutes later.

"I'd like to know what's going on," Fury said. "Coulson? What happened?"

"Skye, play the recording," Coulson said. "You'll see, sir."

It was the recording of a phone conversation, and Skye prefaced it by saying, "This is from the line in Sitwell's office; which is encrypted. Well. Um. _Was_ encrypted. Until I decrypted it."

Fury raised his eyebrows and turned to Stark, who grinned impudently.

"That's my girl," he said proudly, and when Skye smirked in response, her smile looked almost identical to Stark's.

"I thought it would lead me to some… answers," she said defensively. "About my birth parents."

Sitwell shifted. "This was an illegal means of obtaining evidence," he said. "Sir, you cannot possibly"—

"Don't tell me what I 'cannot possibly' do," Fury said, his voice rising in annoyance. "Play the tape, Miss Stark."

"The first one cuts off before the end," Skye said apologetically, but she smiled vindictively at Taksony as her hand pushed the play button.

"_The boy. Garrett isn't happy with our progress."_

_"Garrett is in__jail__. He's not doing much, either."_

_"You know what he wants, Taksony. The kid is good. One of the best. He's an asset."_

_"We have no way of getting to him."_

_"There are ways."_

_"You have an idea I haven't thought through yet?"_

_"You have to take what you're doing already, Taksony. You've tried to get him kicked out of school, but Burke is pitiful, and the kid has people who will go to bat for him. You have to do better. You have to get him kicked out of school before the end of the year, or we'll have a harder time getting him out of the Academy next year."_

_"And how will that help us? We need him on our__side__, Sitwell. If we get him kicked out, he'll just hate us both."_

_"We don't need to convince him to like us, though. We don't need him to swallow the dogma. We don't even need to tell him what to do or be, or how to fight for us. We just need to make him desperate"—_

_"And then we need to be the ones to offer him a way out."_

_"Exactly."_

_"And how do we make him desperate?"_

_"We rip the ground from under his feet. You take away this illusion of safety he has. He has to know that Coulson and all the rest are going to drop him if he just pushes hard enough, and we'll make sure he pushes hard enough." _

The recording cut off abruptly, and Ward stared at the two men, slack-jawed.

"I finally got it decrypted this morning, and I listened to it during my study hall," Skye explained. "I was still working on my decryption skills, so the last part cut out. I have two more clips."

She hit another button, and another sound clip began to play.

_"Taksony. Tell me you have good news."_

_"Sitwell. He didn't take the bait."_

_"Then give him__better__bait, Taksony. We need him expelled, and this is the only way."_

_"There might be another way."_

_"And what is that?"_

_"I'd like to call it a two-for-one deal. It involves the girl."_

_"Stark's girl? I like it. I've seen the boy. He likes her. If the plan involves the girl, he'll be out by Wednesday." _

Sitwell maintained his look of unconcern, but Taksony at least had the good sense to look nervous, especially with the looks Natasha Romanov was sending him.

Fury folded his arms. "And the last clip?"

Skye's lips tightened imperceptibly. "This was from today," she said. "Mr. McDouchePants here called up Agent Shitwell so they could congratulate themselves on a job well done."

"_Sitwell?" _

"_It's me. Is it done?" _

"_I slipped the bong into his bag when I did my search." _

"_And did Abel do his part?" _

"_He mentioned the rumors like you told him to. And he asked the question. Why did you want him to ask about the kid's father?" _

"_The kid shot his father, Taksony. You think it's possible to mention that and _not_ fuck with his mind?" _

"_True. Your cousin played his part well. Did you tell him why he was doing it?" _

"_No. And I told him to sleep a bag of weed into the bag, because a possession charge means automatic expulsion. I trust he carried that out as well?" _

"_No. He must not have had the chance. It doesn't matter. I'm going to mention the security tape, and when I have time, I'll edit it to incriminate the kid. Are you going to talk to him today?" _

"_Yes. Make sure I get a minute alone with him, Taksony. He needs to feel like he betrayed Coulson if any of this is going to work. And you need to piss of Coulson, because he has to be angry at the boy if you're trying to fuck with the boy's loyalty." _

"_I'll speak with Garrett as soon as possible. He'll be pleased." _

The recording cut there.

The room was dead silent, and then Coulson stepped forward slowly, his eyes flashing dangerously. He leaned in, invading Sitwell's space and then stopping in front of Taksony. The man shrank back slightly, and Coulson's hand snaked out, dragging him forward by his collar. "If you value your continued existence, you will take this message to Garrett next time you contact him." Coulson said, and when Ward heard the deadly calm in his voice that carried across the room, he realized he had never really seen the man angry before. Coulson leaned in, and Taksony flinched. "Stay. Away. From. My. Son."

Coulson stepped back, leaving Taksony shaking, and turned to Sitwell, who backed away hastily.

"I expect a fair trial and hearing in front of a S.H.I.E.L.D. review board," Sitwell said quickly—almost desperately, Ward thought. "This evidence was obtained illegally and"—

"We'll hear from you at the review hearing, then," Fury said dismissively. "Agent Hand?"

She nodded to the two agents flanking her, and they stepped forward to cuff Taksony—who was still silent—and Sitwell.

"The kid," Sitwell said suddenly. "Abel. He's not involved. He was just doing as he was told. He thought it was innocent."

"Planting drugs on another kid was _innocent_?" Coulson asked, his face cold and hard and merciless.

"He didn't carry that order out," Sitwell protested, and for the first time he looked almost desperate. "Listen, you know that illegally obtained evidence won't hold up in front of a court, or even a review panel. But I'll confess to all of this—_all_ of it—if you let Abel off."

Coulson's face softened just slightly for the first time, and Grant moved forward, his arm brushing Coulson's slightly. Coulson looked down at him for a long moment, and Grant nodded.

"Okay," he said. "We'll bring the kid in for questioning, but charges will not be pressed for the attempt to plant drugs in Grant's bag or for the verbal harassment."

Sitwell nodded, and they led him out of the room after Taksony.

Fury spoke briefly to Hill and Hand and then left, and Skye crossed the room to stand beside Grant.

"Coulson told me what Taksony said about me," she said bluntly. "About the drugs and about dating Abel."

"I'm sorry," Ward said, so quietly his voice was hardly more than a whisper. "I shouldn't have doubted you."

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around him. "Don't be sorry," she whispered gently, and be buried his face against her shoulder for a moment, not caring that he was in a room full of people. "I'm sorry they did that to you. And I know the way you trust. Slow to trust, quick to run away if something seems off."

Skye pulled back.

"I'm sorry Abel treated _you_ like shit," Ward said. "I heard you told him off for it, at least."

"Did she?" Natasha looked up suddenly. "What did do?"

"I kneed him in the groin, and then I twisted his arm over like you taught me," Skye said, smiling just slightly. "And I told him that if he wanted to go home with his hands still attached to _his_ body, he would keep them off of _mine_."

Natasha smiled with pride. "If he touches you again, though," she said, her face sobering quickly. "Tell me. I'll break him."

"I get dibs," Tony said. "I get to break him first."

Coulson exchanged a look with Steve, who just shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"Come on," Coulson said, a hint of weariness creeping into his tone. "Let's get you upstairs, Grant. Stark, Skye, can we talk tomorrow about the recordings and getting a clean copy for the S.H.I.E.L.D. review board to look at?"

Tony nodded, and then wrapped an arm over Skye. "Fun fact: my daughter assembled the avengers faster than Nick Fury and all of S.H.I.E.L.D. did before the Battle of New York."

"Fun fact: she broke into Nick Fury's office and sent out an emergency message to all of the avengers and level 10 agents to do it," Maria Hill responded dryly, and Skye flushed.

Agent Hand turned to go, but she smiled at Hill's words. "And Skye, would you mind coming in tomorrow and helping a team improve the security on Fury's office?"

Skye nodded, and brushed past Ward on her way out, squeezing his hand briefly on her way past.

Clint and Natasha went with Hand to make sure her level eights had secured the two prisoners, and Thor followed Jane and Darcy back to the lab. Steve went back up to the living quarters with them, but excused himself as soon as they were inside, leaving Ward alone with Coulson.

Coulson stood looking down at him for a long moment, and then he stepped forward and pulled Ward close, and for once Ward leaned into the hug instead of pulling away. "I'm sorry," Coulson murmured. "I'm so, so sorry. About all of this. This whole mess."

Ward shook his head. "It wasn't your fault."

"I should've seen Taksony for what he was a long time ago," Coulson said, defeat in his voice. "I should've protected you from that."

Ward stepped back and looked up at Coulson. "You fought for me," he said. "Even when you didn't know. Even when all the evidence was against me."

A small, sad smile touched Coulson's face, and he stepped away from Ward and dropped wearily onto the couch.

Ward followed, curling up beside him, and Coulson reached out a hand and ruffled Ward's hair, looking down at him thoughtfully. "Getting into the Academy is really important to you, isn't it?"

Ward nodded.

"You know that's not your only choice, don't you?" Coulson asked suddenly. "I don't want you to choose S.H.I.E.L.D. because you feel like you have to."

Ward yawned and pulled a nearby throw blanket over himself. "I don't feel like I have to," he said, cocking his head in confusion as he curled up under the blanket. "I want to join S.H.I.E.L.D. because I… I like what it stands for. What it means. I guess that's why it's something I want to be part of."

"So what does it mean to you?" Coulson asked softly. "What does it stand for?"

"Rescue," Ward said, leaning his head against Coulson's shoulder and thinking of a feral boy alone in the woods and the man who had come to bring him home. "And hope."


	8. A Message

_An encrypted hard line, ten miles away from the Hub. _

Communication line 44BC, ten miles away from the Hub: "Garrett? I have news."

Communication line H-21, a secure prison facility: "Better be good, Sitwell. I have about three minutes to hear it.

44BC: "Not good."

H-21: "You didn't get the kid kicked out? I told you, it's the only way. He needs to be desperate, or you'll never get to him."

44BC: "Jasper was found out."

H-21: "Then who the hell am I talking to?"

44BC: "Abel Sitwell. My cousin asked me to deliver the news."

H-21: "_Shit_. How much do they know?"

44BC: "How much _is_ there to know?"

H-21: "Don't try to be smart, kid. Who did they find, and how?"

44BC: "Just Sitwell and Taksony."

H-21: "They don't know about Zirbe or Christie?"

44BC: "Just Sitwell and Taksony."

H-21: "How?"

44BC: "I don't know. But that wasn't the message Jasper asked me to give you."

H-21: "Spill, kid. I don't have all day."

44BC: "Jasper wanted me to say this, word for word: 'The kid is untouchable. More trouble than he's worth. The Avengers will fight for him.' He wants you to leave the kid alone."

H-21: "Tell Jasper I don't take orders from him."

44BC: "He said that it's not orders. He said he's trying to save your life. Coulson won't give up his boy."

H-21: "He was mine first."

44BC: "He's not anymore."

—End Communication—


	9. Changes

Ward stayed on the couch next to Coulson, curled up under a blanket while Steve heated up leftovers in the kitchen. When Steve re-entered the common room, carrying a plate for himself and a plate for Grant, Coulson sighed and rose to his feet. "I'm going back to the school to talk about Taksony and negotiating in regards to your suspension," he said, his hand resting on Ward's shoulder.

Ward reached up and caught Coulson's arm as he turned to go, unsure how to communicate what he wanted to say. Finally, he shook his head. "No," he said, squaring his shoulders. "Please don't."

Coulson looked at him in confusion.

"I still hit Burke," Ward said. "You know that. I was supposed to go get my books, and instead I went and found Burke, and I hit him in the face, and when he tried to hit me back I broke his wrist. That wasn't Taksony. That was me."

Understanding flashed across Coulson's face. "I understand that. And I'm not going there to try to get you off free. I just think that, given the circumstances, there are different disciplinary measures the school has, which won't be as detrimental to your academics as forcing you to take six final exams in the space of two days. Okay?"

Ward hesitated, and then nodded. "How long will you be gone?" He clenched his fists under the blanket, once again his nails digging into his skin until his palms were raw. He had been trying to still the shaking in his hands ever since he'd found out about Taksony and Sitwell, but to no avail.

"I'll be home in time for dinner at six," Coulson said, grabbing his keys off the table.

Steve, who had been just about to head to his room, stopped and looked at Ward for a brief moment. "I can go to the school instead. If you want." Coulson looked doubtful, but Steve added, "I know the circumstances, and I know the school administration."

"You mean they're not going to say no if Captain America asks," Coulson said wryly, and Steve grinned.

"Something like that," he said, and when Ward opened his mouth to respond, Steve's expression sobered. "I'm serious. I'm not going to ask anyone to do favors for you because of who your friends are. I'm just going to do what Coulson said. I'm going to ask for a different approach than a week's suspension."

Ward nodded, relieved when Coulson sat down beside him again. When Steve left, Ward looked away from Coulson, staring down at the floor and clenching and unclenching his fists. "I knew they hated me," he said finally. "But why… why did they want me to get kicked out? And why did they think they could take on all of you?"

"I don't think they underestimated us at all," Coulson said seriously, and Ward looked up at him. "I think it's you they underestimated. Your abilities. Your strength. Your loyalty."

"They almost won," Ward said. "They almost got me kicked out of school. I mean, _I _almost got myself kicked out of school. They did what they set out to do. They pushed me and I snapped."

Coulson was quiet for a moment. "I think what they set out to do was make you desperate enough to choose them. They just never counted on the fact that no matter how desperate you are, you'd still choose better."

"I wouldn't always have," Ward said suddenly. "When I came here eight months ago, I wouldn't have made that choice."

"Eight months ago you wouldn't have realized you _had_ a choice."

Ward looked at him thoughtfully. "What are you going to do?" he asked finally, hating how small his voice sounded. "About Burke?"

"Me?" Coulson asked, leaning back against the couch, his arm across Grant's shoulders. "I'm not going to do anything. Burke was innocent, and even if he hadn't been, you would need to make it right. But that's on you, Grant. What are _you_ going to do?"

Ward looked taken aback at the question. "I don't know," he said finally. "Can we… can we go to his house and apologize?"

"No," Coulson said quickly, and Ward squinted up at him in confusion. "There's a lot you don't know about Burke. And his family. It'd be better for Burke if you _don't_ go over there."

"I know enough about him. I know that he's rich. And I know that he likes to pick on anyone with less money," Ward retorted before he could stop himself, and Coulson shot him a look.

"There's more to the story."

Ward looked up at him sharply, but Coulson did not elaborate. "I'll talk to him at school, then," he said finally, looking away.

Coulson nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good. But today… it's still early. Do you have any homework to do?"

Ward shook his head.

"Amie and Aziz were wondering if you could help with that new litter of puppies. You could bring Buddy with you," Coulson suggested, and Ward perked up. "FitzSimmons come home tonight, too," Coulson added. "Lily's been asking if they could come over for a while."

"And Skye? Can she come too?"

"Pepper said she still had an early curfew, but knowing Skye, she'll end up over here at some ungodly hour anyway," Coulson said ruefully.

Ward stood and tossed the blanket aside. "Are we taking Lola?"

"What else?" Coulson grinned, grabbing his keys. "Grab Buddy's leash and we can go."

Later that evening, when Grant was in the middle of bottle-feeding a litter of golden retriever puppies, Steve stopped in. He entered the back room, and Aziz stood up and greeted him, pushing her stray hair back under her hijab and wiping her hands on her jeans. "Good to see you, Steve," she said brightly. "Did you want to feed one?"

Steve grinned—an almost shy grin that lit his whole face; one Ward didn't see on his face very often—and held out his hands for the puppy. The puppy, barely three weeks old, fit in the palm of Steve's hand.

"Steve?" Ward asked. "Can we"—

"Natasha would kill us," Steve shook his head, but Ward could see the longing in Steve's face and he knew it was only a matter of time.

"She's the runt of the litter," Ward cajoled. "She might not make it, you know. Amie and Aziz take care of them all, of course, but this little one needs extra care"—

"Nat said no more dogs," Coulson said, but he had squatted down so he was level with the litter of puppies.

"_Nat_ never has to know," Ward said. "Besides, we could just keep the temporarily until she's a little stronger"—

"It would be good for her," Amie commented, tossing her long red hair over her shoulder and looking at her wife for support. "Aziz?"

"Absolutely," Aziz said. "We give him a bottle every four hours, but he really could use someone who could give him more personal care. You know how busy we get."

"Fine," Coulson conceded. "But only temporarily. When she's old enough, she comes back here. Deal?"

Ward grinned and ducked his head.

"You think you can convince us later, don't you?" Coulson said ruefully.

"Yup," Ward said shamelessly, taking the runt from Steve's hand and crouching so that Buddy could greet the new puppy. "Look, Buddy, I found you a new friend." Buddy sniffed the tiny pup, wagging his tail, and the puppy opened its eyes and made the smallest of growls. Buddy's tail wagged faster and nosed the puppy delightedly. "I think I'm going to name her Natasha."

"Oh, she's actually going to kill us all," Steve groaned.

"Clint will be happy, though," Ward shrugged. "She won't kill us if Clint's happy."

Aziz grinned. "She sounds like Amie."

Amie elbowed her on her way past, and then turned to Ward. "We have extra formula in the kitchen. We'll give you enough for the next few days, and I'll tell you what times to feed her"—

"Every three hours?" Coulson interjected as Ward and Amie reached the door. "Ward has school. I'm not sure he should be up every few hours to feed the puppy."

Ward looked at Steve. "Am I going back?"

He nodded. "They're dismissing the charges because the only evidence was Taksony's word."

"Anddd… Burke's broken wrist."

Steve's expression darkened slightly. "Apparently the boy often comes to school with broken bones," he said quietly. "The school nurse told us he never answers her when she asks where they came from, and he said nothing to implicate you."

"Why would he protect me?" Ward snapped. "That doesn't make any sense. And why the hell does he have other injuries?"

It was their silence that told him.

"Because telling makes it worse. With his dad, right?" Ward asked, his words slow and sharp and brutal. "_Fuck_. Why didn't you tell me? And why aren't you _doing_ anything about it?"

Steve sighed, and exchanged a look with Coulson and Aziz. "Believe me, we've tried. But you can't convict a wealthy, powerful man on serious allegations when the victims refuse to testify."

Ward set the puppy back in Steve's hands and turned away. "I wondered why he was so slow to hit back," he said finally, his jaw tightening. "And you're saying I'm getting off free for what I did? I shouldn't."

Aziz reached out a gentle hand and put it on his shoulder. "Being suspended does nothing for Burke. Or for anyone."

Ward bit his lip, and Coulson reached for him.

Ward shook his head. "I…I should have known. And either way, I should never have… god. I should never have laid a hand on him."

Coulson nodded. "That's true. But what I said earlier is true. Where you go from now, how you make this right, it's on you. You don't get to change what has happened. You do have a say in what _will_ happen."

"I think we should get this puppy home," Steve said finally, and Aziz nodded.

"We have a heating pad for him tonight, and I'm assuming Buddy will keep him company if he gets lonely?"

Steve raised his eyebrows and jerked his head towards Grant. "Lonely? I don't think that puppy is going to be set down all night."

Ward mustered a small smile as he took the puppy back into his arms and whistled for Buddy to follow him. Amie handed Steve a jar of formula for the puppy's bottle, and Coulson followed with Aziz, who was carrying one of their newer strays, a three-legged dog named Cynthia (Ward had tried adopting her on three separate occasions with three separate but equally susceptible adults along—Coulson, Steve, and Clint).

They had reached the car when Coulson stopped to take a call.

It was a short call, finished by the time Ward had secured Buddy and the puppy in the kennel, but Coulson was standing still as if he was rooted to the ground, his eyes distant and unfocused.

"Phil?" Steve asked. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Coulson said vaguely, the smallest of smiles touching his lips.

"What is it?" Ward asked. "What happened?"

Coulson did smile this time, though his eyes retained that distant look as if he was looking straight past Ward into some memory Ward couldn't see. "I just received news," Coulson said distractedly.

"News?" Steve asked, pulling open the car door. "Good news, I hope?"

"The best," Coulson said. "Melinda May is coming back."


	10. The Cavalry Arrives

Ward was on the roof sparring with Natasha and Clint when May arrived, so he didn't see the grand reunion (though he heard the embellished version from Darcy later), but he knew how much she meant to Coulson.

He had only mentioned her twice in Ward's memory, and each time Ward had known not to press him for information.

Natasha was a different story, however, and Ward had questions.

"Why is she coming _back_?" he asked, twisting the staff in his hand the way she taught him and blocking her shot. "Where has she been?"

"She took some R & R after Bahrain," Clint said, stringing three arrows into his bow and firing rapidly at the target on the other side of the roof. "Almost a year, actually."

"What happened there?"

"Heard of the Cavalry?" Natasha asked, her lips curving into a small, wolfish smile.

He nodded. "She's the _Cavalry_? So… Bahrain means the Battle of Bahrain, and Coulson's Melinda May is the one who fought in it."

"Is he supposed to know about that?" Clint asked Natasha, grinning wryly. "I don't think he's supposed to know that."

Natasha shrugged. "The kid keeps his ears open, I guess."

Ward grinned, but as he traded his staff for the hand-to-hand he preferred, he had more questions. "Were she and Coulson… you know…"

"No," Natasha said mischievously. "I don't know what you're suggesting. Why don't you explain it to us?"

Clint smirked, and Ward rolled his eyes.

"Were they together?"

"Nobody's _together_ in this business," Natasha said, her expression sobering.

"You and Clint are."

Clint, who had lifted his water bottle for a drink, choked on it and spluttered, reddening. "We're a bit different, Nat and I."

"I don't know, Tasha and Melinda May sound like they have a lot in common," Ward said confidently. "Though you and Coulson don't have that much in common. And by that I mean he doesn't practice archery at all hours of the night or basically live on the roof like a freaking bird."

Clint shoved him playfully, and then turned to Natasha, slipping unconsciously into Russian as he spoke to her. "Some mouth on this kid," he said.

"And a better grasp of the language," Ward replied in perfect Russian.

Nat smiled proudly. "He has Russian down better than you do. And his Chinese is improving. You're a natural at languages, Grant."

Ward flushed slightly at the complement, and opened his mouth to ask another question when a voice interrupted them.

"Grant!" It was Steve, pulling himself up through the opening in the roof. "Coulson was looking for you. Melinda's here."

Ward swallowed hard.

Why he was nervous about meeting her, he couldn't say, though it occurred to him that it was equally because she was a warrior almost as legendary as Natasha and because of how important she was to Coulson.

Regardless, he was clenching his fists so tightly—as he had been doing all day—his palms were raw from the way his nails bit into his skin.

Coulson and May were standing together in the common room, with a close familiarity that made Ward wonder how much he really knew about Coulson.

"Grant," Coulson said, smiling more brightly than he'd ever seen him smile. "This is Melinda May. May, this is Grant."

Her eyes swept over him coolly, and he could tell it took effort when she smiled politely and held out her hand to shake his.

"It's good to meet you," she said quietly. "Coulson's told me a lot about you."

Ward nodded curtly, stepping back after the handshake and clenching his fists again. "I hear you've been away quite a while?"

"I have," she said with finality, and Ward knew in a second that asking the Cavalry any more questions would be dangerous and reckless and stupid.

"So how did you earn it?" he asked brazenly. "The title of the _Cavalry_?"

"Grant!" Coulson reproved sharply, and May, who had looked taken aback at first, turned to Coulson, the look in her eyes sharp and almost disdainful.

"Nǐ méiyǒu gàosù wǒ tā shìgè huàidàn," she said ruefully. _You didn't tell me he was a little shit. _

"Xiǎo gǒu shǐ shuí zhīdào hěnduō yǔyán," Ward shot back. _A little shit who knows a lot of languages. _

A slow smile spread across her face, and he thought it was respect he saw in her face.

"They told me you were good," she said in English. "I didn't know that meant languages too."

"Natasha's been teaching me."

"Nàme yěxǔ tā huì jiào nǐ bù gěi wǒ dǎ diànhuà qíbīng." _Then maybe she will teach you not to call me the Cavalry. _

He looked at her for a long moment, and then nodded briefly.

"Glad we got that cleared up," she said. "Phil, you promised me dinner. Is Thor cooking?"

There was muffled laughter from the kitchen—Thor's rumble and Jane's giggle—and Coulson smiled.

"Who else?" he said. "It should be ready in a few minutes. Grant, help me set the table?"

Ward followed him into the kitchen, and when they were in relative privacy, Coulson turned to him, his jaw squared. "I don't know what problem you've decided you have with her," he said sharply. "But if you can't bring yourself to be welcoming, you need to at least treat her with respect."

"I wasn't"—Ward began futilely, and then stopped, scuffing his toe against the ground and clenching his fists tighter.

Coulson's face softened just slightly. "This doesn't change anything, you know," he said. "She's one of us. You'll see." He placed a stack of dishes in Ward's hands and then moved away from him, farther into the kitchen to grab a pot of spaghetti from Jane.

Ward set the plates around the table, and then dropped into his seat, his shoulders bent.

To his surprise, May seated herself beside him. She didn't speak to him at first, but looked up at Coulson. They exchanged a look that Ward couldn't decipher, and then May jerked her head towards the kitchen, and Coulson left.

When he reappeared a few minutes later, he was carrying a cloth and a bowl of water, which he handed wordlessly to May.

May turned to Ward. "Hands," she said.

"What?"

"Hold out your hands."

"What the hell"—

"Spare me the drama," she said, taking his wrist and stretching out one palm in front of her. "You've been clenching your fists so tight you're drawing your own blood. By the looks of it, you've been doing that all day. Rough day?"

"You have no idea," Ward said through clenched teeth.

"Relax," she told him, her voice surprisingly soft. She dipped the cloth into the bowl and rang it out, then began to rub it gently across his raw palms. "Is that better?"

He nodded. The sting was slipping away, and he was relaxing just a little bit, despite himself.

"Next time, have something to hold onto," she told him, handing the bowl and cloth back to Coulson. "Try this." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a worn, knotted fragment of rope. "Clench that in your hand when you need something to hold onto, and you won't tear up your palm like that. It worked for me."

There was understanding in her dark eyes, and Ward let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

She smiled suddenly, a small, wary smile that just barely slipped across her lips as if it hadn't been used in a while. "Nǐ háishì yīgè xiǎo húndàn," she said, and Ward grinned at her words.

_You're still a little shit. _


	11. Lessons Learned

After a few days, it seemed that Melinda May was, indeed, going to become one of them, because suddenly Coulson's time was pre-occupied with this apparently-permanent-houseguest.

In her conversations with Natasha or Maria Hill—who spent significantly more time in the quarters now that Melinda was staying there—May slipped into various languages, almost as many as Natasha herself knew, and Ward took great pride in loudly translating their quiet conversations for the others.

Coulson would roll his eyes and tell him to lay off, but generally he was too pre-occupied with May to notice Ward's attitude.

School finished a week later, and Skye was full of excited news about the academy she would be attending in the fall—a private academy for high ranking students in science and technology—and FitzSimmons were bubbling with the news that they had received an early admission decision from the science division of the S.H.I.E.L.D. academy. Ward had not yet heard from the S.H.I.E.L.D. academy, but it hung over him like a gloomy weight, no matter how hard he tried to be happy for the other three.

The night before the last day of school, Coulson asked him if he had apologized to Burke yet, and Ward had had to admit that he hadn't even spoken to Burke since the incident. Ward and Coulson had ended up arguing about it, and Ward had ended up losing late-night Walking-Dead-marathon privileges for a week because of that argument, so on the last day of school he had to face the much-dreaded apology.

He _was_ sorry.

Of course he was.

In fact, he carried a guilt that still made him feel sick every time he thought of the terrified look in Burke's eyes and what he had learned about Burke's father.

It didn't mean apologizing was easy.

(The words came out rough and fast, not as kind as he would have liked, but Burke only nodded, a small sneer on his lips, and left before Ward had the time to over-analyze it).

He was in a bad mood for the rest of the day, and a small part of him was hoping Coulson was going to be the one picking him up from school, because he knew Coulson would ask how it had went.

It was Steve, however.

"Where's Coulson?" Ward asked after he had greeted him.

"He had a late op briefing," Steve told him.

"When will he be home?"

"Late," Steve said. "He and May are going out for a couple drinks with Clint and Natasha."

Ward repressed a scowl. "I pity anyone who drinks with Clint and Natasha," he commented, and Steve smirked.

"Thor and I tried to keep up with Nat once," he admitted.

"She won," Ward guessed. It wasn't a question.

Steve grinned guiltily and nodded. "I shouldn't be telling you all of that."

Ward smirked. "I spar with Nat and Clint every day. What do you think they talk about?"

Steve raised his eyebrows. "I can only imagine."

"Trust me, you don't want to imagine," Ward said.

When they arrived home, Maria Hill was waiting in the common room.

"Is May here?" she asked crisply.

Steve shook his head, and Ward repressed another scowl.

Why did every goddamn thing come back to May? They would all be much happier if she would go back to whatever safe house she had spent her R & R time in.

When Natasha and Clint arrived home just before midnight that night, they found him on the roof practicing with the kick shields.

Nat yawned and flopped down on the pile of blankets Clint had brought up here for her to lounge on. "You supposed to be up this late, kid?" she asked.

"Yea," Ward lied, and Nat didn't press him. "Is Coulson home?"

Nat grinned and looked at Clint, who shook his head.

"I don't think they'll be home for a while," he said. "Nat, I'm going to bed. Grant, Coulson will kill us if we let you stay up too late. Did Steve say it was okay for you to be up?"

"Yea," Ward lied again as Clint dropped back down through the opening in the roof.

Nat stretched and yawned again.

"I thought you were getting drinks with them," Ward said, his tone accusing. "Why aren't they home?"

Nat grinned mischievously, a wolfish gleam in her eyes. "Melinda May is the all-night kind," she said, and Ward's face twisted in disgust and then surprise.

"Eww," he said. "I didn't want to know that. And you say that like"—

"Like I speak from experience?" she asked, smirking. "Maybe."

"But"—

"What can I say?" she asked lazily, running a hand through her loose red hair. "I'm flexible. Besides, that was before Clint and I were really together."

Ward stared at her. "I didn't really want to know that, either."

She laughed and stood. "Sorry, kid. I'm going to bed. Clint was dropping subtle hints"—

"I have a list of things I don't really want to hear about," Ward cut her off. "And what you and Clint do when you're alone is at the very top of that list."

"Speaking of being on top"—

Ward threw one of the smaller kick shields at her, and she ducked, laughing.

"I'm done, I promise," she said. "And you need to get to bed, kid. For the record, I can tell when you're lying through your teeth."

"Give me fifteen minutes," Ward said, rolling his eyes. "I want to practice this kick a few more times."

"Fifteen minutes," Natasha agreed. "If you're up here any longer than that and I find out about it, I'll kick your ass myself."

She left, probably knowing that Ward had no intention of going to bed, and it was nearing two in the morning when he finally set down the kick shield. It was then that he heard the commotion below, and when he listened more closely, he heard Coulson's voice, calling his name.

He dropped through the opening into the roof and found himself face to face with Coulson and May. Anger and relief coursed across Coulson's face in equal parts.

"We had no idea where you were," he snapped. "Sitwell was being transferred to a more permanent prison, and I hadn't heard if it was successful and we worried that he could have escaped and come after you"—

"Well, I'm fine," Ward cut him off curtly, and May raised her eyebrows at his rudeness but said nothing.

"And what the hell are you doing out so fucking late?" Coulson demanded.

Steve, Natasha, and Clint appeared in the hallway behind Coulson. When Natasha saw Ward, she rolled her eyes. "I'm going to kick your ass," she muttered in Russian, accompanying the words with a string of curses before turning to Clint and pulling him back in the direction of their room. "But I'm going to do it in the goddamn morning, because I'm fucking exhausted."

("Technically it's already morning," Ward heard Clint whispering to Nat, who smacked him in the arm and told him in vivid language where he could shove his technicalities).

"You alright?" Steve asked Ward, who nodded. Steve turned to Coulson. "He wasn't missing?"

Coulson shook his head, crossing his arms. "Just out too damn late," he answered, his gaze sharp.

Steve yawned widely and nodded, ruffling Ward's hair gently as he walked past on his way back to bed. "You scared me, kid."

Ward scowled at the floor, and Coulson stepped forward. "What were you doing?"

"Just practicing," Ward told the floor.

"And why the hell did you decide to stay out so late?"

"It's not like you were here to notice," Ward grumbled, hating the instant understanding that flashed across both May and Coulson's faces.

"So that's what this is about?" Coulson asked, his face softening just slightly.

"It's not _about _anything," Ward argued. "I just wanted to practice, goddamnit." He turned and walked away from Coulson.

"Grant," Coulson called warningly. "We're not finished."

"I am," Ward shot back, knowing he was treading dangerous ground and not caring.

"Grant"—May spoke for the first time, and Ward wheeled around.

"_Fuck_. _Off_."

Ward pulled himself back up through the opening in the roof just as the shock and anger registered on Coulson's face.

He was so screwed after this, and so tired and so pissed off and goddamnit Burke had probably laughed at him after his apology today and May was taking all of Coulson's time and—_fuck_, he probably wasn't going to get into the Academy this year either, not with his track record…

He knew Coulson wasn't going to let this go—knew he didn't want him to, actually—but he was dreading the conversation nonetheless.

As he waited on the roof for Coulson to come, however, guilt began to do battle with his frustration—overwhelming guilt. For a moment, Ward almost felt sick to his stomach. Coulson didn't deserve 0this, not after everything he had done for Ward... he deserved to be happy, and if May made him happy, Ward should have just had the decency to let it be.

When Coulson didn't follow him immediately, Ward tossed aside the staff and the kick shield and sat down on the ledge at the side of the roof. He dangled his feet idly over the side of the building and rubbing the back of his arm impatiently across his eyes to erase the ghosts of frustrated tears that were forming at the back of them.

Coulson didn't come upstairs for twenty long minutes, and when he did, Ward didn't turn to face him.

"I have three things to say," Coulson began firmly. "First, you're grounded for a week for breaking curfew and for the way you've been treating Melinda since she arrived. Second, I expect you to apologize to her for what you said tonight and for the way you've treated her since you met her. Do you understand?"

"Yea," Ward mumbled, still not turning to look at Coulson. "What's the third thing?"

Coulson paused, and when he spoke, his voice was gentler. "Grant," he said quietly. "Come here."

Ward stood reluctantly, and turned to face Coulson.

Coulson looked at him for a long moment. "Third, having Melinda May here… that's been hard for you to accept, and I understand. And I want you to know that this doesn't change anything, okay? I can care about May without forgetting about you." He pulled Ward close, and for once, Ward didn't fight him.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled against Coulson's shoulder, his apology almost too quiet to hear.

"Come on," Coulson said softly. "Tomorrow I want to hear all about Burke and school and everything else, but for now you need to get to bed."

"That's four things, not three," Grant said mischievously.

"Then _fifth_, get your ass moving," Coulson ordered him, shoving him playfully.

When they re-entered the common room, May was in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe and sipping a beer.

If Coulson hadn't been standing behind him, Ward would probably have turned and run. As it was, he was marched to his doom slowly, Coulson's hand planted firmly on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Ward told her finally, his voice rough and a little shaky. He wasn't good at these apologies, apparently. "For what I said," he added.

May looked at him sharply, but she nodded. "Water under the bridge, kid," she told him nonchalantly, and Ward sighed with relief.

Coulson stepped forward. "Alright," he said quietly. "You need to get to bed, Grant."

Ward looked up at him. "Do you have an op to brief tomorrow morning?" he asked a little guiltily. When Coulson nodded, he murmured, "Sorry."

Coulson smiled slightly. "I'll be fine," he told Grant. "I'm used to functioning on less sleep. You should worry about _you_. You're up way too late."

Grant nodded and turned to go, but when he reached the hallway entrance, he paused and turned back. "May," he began uncertainly. "When I said I was sorry—I meant—for everything—since you got here"—

May's face softened slightly. "Thanks," she said briefly. "But like I said, it's water under the bridge."

He nodded and sighed wearily, and she stepped past him on her way to her room. Her arm brushed his as she passed, and she glanced at him again, a small smile playing across her lips. "Now get to bed, kid."


	12. The Cadet

Being grounded for a week sucked more than he thought it would (though it meant more board games with Steve, Clint, and Nat, who won at every single game they played). It meant he had to come home straight after school instead of going to see Skye (though she still snuck out to see him after-hours on the roof), and it meant that FitzSimmons couldn't come over (though Steve accidentally brought them home on a day when Coulson was working, and the three of them decided Steve was better off not knowing what he'd done).

Ward did decide, however, that mouthing off at Melinda May was not going to get him there.

He was still angry, of course.

Being a mess doesn't stop just because someone understands you, though it does help.

The Academy was still hanging over his head, Skye was ridiculously happy about the school she was ditching him for next year… but at least Coulson understood. Sometimes he understood too well, however.

It was Friday, three days after he'd been grounded, and he was feeding the new puppy its bottle when Coulson asked him for help with the dishes. He'd retorted impatiently before he thought about it, and Coulson just waited patiently until Ward let out his breath in an angry huff and handed Nat the puppy to feed as he got up to help with dishes.

(Ward needn't have worried about how she would have reacted to the puppy, since she seemed to have decided, quite protectively, that it belonged to her and she was keeping it).

When he and Coulson had finished the dishes, Coulson tossed the dish towel to him. "Agent Hand has a team on the field right now, and she wants me to be there for the briefing when they return. You're on your own for the night, so get to bed early, okay? You said you'd be at Aziz and Amie's first thing tomorrow."

Ward muttered something under his breath about _damn curfews_ and _not a kid_, and Coulson's jaw tightened imperceptibly. Coulson didn't say anything (and _godfuckingdamnit_ how were you supposed to be pissed off when they wouldn't get angry back at you?), and just stepped past Ward and out of the kitchen.

Ward sulked.

There was no other word for it.

He didn't have a real reason to be pissed off, and he knew it. But being grounded sucked and having Coulson gone for most of the night sucked and not being able to see Skye because of her stupid school sucked and he was so damn tired of waiting for S.H.I.E.L.D. to either accept or reject him.

He got the call that night from the Academy, asking him to come in the next evening to complete tests—one standardized test that all applicants took, including a special proficiency measurement that included different languages, and one physical test with basic hand-to-hand and sparring.

The first test was relatively easy, but when it came to the hand-to-hand combat and hand-eye coordination, he was too nervous and too tired and ended up messing up one of the most basic self-defense escapes he was asked to do.

Coulson had been outside the room and had seen the test. He was there when Ward exited the room.

"You saw it?" Ward asked curtly, clenching his fists on the token—the frayed knot that felt worn and tired in his palm—that Melinda May had given him to cope with stress.

Coulson nodded, and when he saw Ward's expression, he added as they reached the car outside, "You did fine."

"You know damn well I didn't," Ward said sharply, looking out the car window away from Coulson's too-understanding eyes.

May met them at the entrance of the Hub. "How'd it go?"

"Fine," Ward told her curtly, hating the flash of understanding on her inscrutable face.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has been looking to recruit you for the past couple of years because of your skills," May told him. "You'll be accepted."

"You don't know that. They could just tell me to reapply after high school," Grant snapped.

"We'll figure it out," Coulson said calmly, placing a hand on Grant's shoulder. "Whatever happens, you don't have to go back to the school in town."

Grant shrugged his hand off roughly. "You wouldn't be trying to make me feel better—or whatever the hell it is you think you're doing—if you didn't think I did a shitty job today."

"_I _think you did well," Coulson told him. "_You're_ the one who thinks it was shitty."

"Stop," Grant told him sharply. "This. Isn't. Helping."

Coulson hesitated, his lips tightening into a firm line, and then he nodded. "Okay," he said finally, his tone strained. "Agent Hand has another special briefing she needs me for, so I have to head down there now. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yea," Ward said coldly, turning away. "Fine."

Coulson left, and the moment he was out of the door, May's hand closed tightly over Grant's arm and she yanked him unceremoniously into the dimly-lit kitchen.

"What the hell?" Ward demanded.

"I could ask you the same thing," May said angrily. "Do you always make it your policy to treat Coulson like shit, or is it only when he's actively trying his best to help you?"

Ward opened his mouth angrily, and then shut it again, his face reddening.

"He's so patient," May continued, shaking her head. "And he _cares_. He cares so fucking much. Do you know how rare that is?"

Ward gritted his teeth and looked away, nodding his head just slightly. "Yea," he said in a small voice. "I know."

May's face softened just slightly. "You know, you're a lot like me, kid."

"Yea," Ward said sarcastically. "Minus the legendary badassery."

Her lips twitched slightly. "I don't know about that. I've heard the stories about you, kid. Like I said, we're similar. We think alike. And that's how you know I'll kick your ass if you continue treating Coulson like shit."

Ward raised his eyebrows, smirking just slightly. "I don't doubt it."

May cuffed his shoulder gently and then turned, pointing at the door. "Then what are you waiting for?"

"What?"

"Go," she ordered. "Come on. Off with you. You can catch Coulson before the briefing."

Grant caught up to Coulson on the floor below. Coulson had opened the door to the briefing room when Grant called out to stop him. "Dad," he called, and Coulson turned just as Ward realized what he'd just said and clapped a hand over his mouth.

Coulson waved off the agent accompanying him and waited for Grant. "You okay?"

Grant nodded, his face reddening as he shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't meant to blurt out the word—hadn't even thought about it—but Coulson was smiling just slightly. "I didn't mean to say—um—I"—

"It's okay," Coulson said. "If… if you want to call me that. Or if you don't."

Grant swallowed nervously. "Yea," he said. "I guess… uh, I guess I do. I just came to say I was sorry. For…talking to you like that."

"Did May talk to you?"

Grant's head snapped up, and Coulson was grinning.

"I know her," he said. "And I know when she's pissed off."

"I sort of thought she was always pissed off," Grant said. "But I… really. I shouldn't have…I shouldn't have talked to you like that."

Coulson didn't say anything, just pulled him close. He drew back, smiling slightly. "You'll get into the Academy. I know you will. Or"—

"Or we'll burn this motherfucker down," Nat said in passing as she and Clint walked by, casually carrying two massive assault rifles.

"Something like that," Coulson said, rolling his eyes as they passed. "You should get back upstairs. I'll be back in time for dinner."

Twenty minutes later—after he had stopped to talk to Banner, who had just arrived and was working in one of the labs—he ran into Maria Hill and Brock Rumlow, another high-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. agent he had heard stories of.

"I have something for Coulson," Hill said, holding out an envelope to Grant. "Could you deliver this to him?"

"He's briefing an op right now, but I'll give it to him when he gets back."

"It's urgent," Rumlow said. "He won't mind being interrupted." He exchanged a look with Hill, and for half a moment Grant thought she almost smiled.

Grant nodded and set off back towards the room where he had left Coulson.

Coulson was just exiting, and Grant held out the envelope. "Agent Hill and Agent Rumlow said this was urgent."

Coulson tore open the envelope, and then a slow smile spread across his face.

"What is it?" Grant asked curiously.

"The S.H.I.E.L.D. academy, ops division, is a place for gifted young men and women committed to being the shield to a world that is not always ready for the truth about extraterrestrial life," Coulson read. "We were impressed with Mr. Ward's remarkable grasp on multiple languages, as well as his astounding hand-to-hand skills. It is with pleasure that we welcome Grant Ward as a S.H.I.E.L.D. cadet in our honors program."

Grant nearly tackled Coulson off his feet in his excitement.

"We should tell the others," Coulson said, and Grant nearly ran back up the stairs to their quarters.

When he opened the door, they were all there—Nat and Clint, Steve and Tony and even Bruce, Jane and Thor, Pepper and Skye and Fitz and Simmons, Maria Hill and May and Hand and even Rumlow—and it was Darcy who shouted, "Surprise!" at the top of her lungs.

Someone was holding a cake.

Grant opened his mouth in amazement. "What"—

"We're celebrating, doorknob," Skye informed him, throwing her arms around him while Tony cleared his throat disapprovingly behind her. "You got into the Academy."

Grant turned to Coulson, who was grinning. "You knew?"

"I found out about fifteen minutes ago, actually," he said. "Hand told me during that briefing. It was Bruce's job to keep you distracted, and it was Maria and Rumlow who had to re-direct you back here."

Fitz, who was holding the new puppy and petting Buddy, nearly tackled him with a hug. "We'll all be at the Academy next year!" he exclaimed, bouncing on his heels. "Well, except Skye, but she can always just sneak in"—

Skye coughed loudly in a blatant attempt to cover up his words, and Agent Hand grinned.

"I'm sure we all expect it by now," Hill said, exchanging a look with Steve. "I think we'd be disappointed if you didn't."

"I've decided to intern at the Academy," Darcy announced. "Let's be honest, Jane has a more muscly assistant now. I'm going to be a house parent for one of the girls' dorms. For the ones actually living at the Academy, I mean."

"_You're_ going to be a house parent?" Grant asked, and Skye snickered.

"That's going to be a disaster, and I want to be there to see all of it," Agent Hand said.

"Me too," Hill agreed.

The party went late, and it involved cake—made by Thor and Jane—a rowdy game of Twister in which Fitz almost broke his arm, Nat's announcement that they were officially keeping the puppy, and a glass of champagne from the bottle Skye had snuck out of Tony's wine cellar, much to Pepper's chagrin and Tony's thinly-veiled pride.

It was late that night, after everyone had dispersed to their various rooms or homes, when Coulson found Grant on the roof.

He was sitting at the edge as he usually did, looking out over the Hub base.

"Can I join you?"

Ward looked up, nodding, and Coulson sat down beside him.

"I just brought this," Coulson said, holding out a small package.

Grant took it.

"Open it," Coulson told him.

He tore the tissue paper off.

It was a badge.

"It's your first S.H.I.E.L.D. badge," Coulson said quietly. "It'll give you access to all of the lower floors on the Hub, the practice rooms and the shooting range, as well as the floors you need to access on the Academy."

Grant felt emotion clench at the back of his throat. He remembered briefly a wild boy in the woods of Massachusetts, hearing the word 'home' for the first time, and wondering what it felt like.

Coulson put an arm across Grant's shoulders and pulled him closer. "Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D., Grant. You've earned it."

"Thanks," he said, swallowing hard. "Thanks, Dad."

_**Author's Note: There will be a part 4, so stay tuned! I may not have it up for a while, because I'm going to take some time. I've been writing a lot, and need a bit of a break. As always, thanks for all your support, my friends! Your likes/favorites and reviews/comments are what keeps me writing. (:**_


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